


24-Hour Coffee Shop

by Snooty_Alpaca



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 50,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4521366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snooty_Alpaca/pseuds/Snooty_Alpaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tauriel works that midnight shift at the 24 Hour Coffee Shop down the street from her house following her discharge from the Guard. </p><p>Bard is a single father who stops in for his morning coffee and pastry after dropping his three children off at daycare.</p><p>The relationship begins smoothly enough until Tauriel's violent ex-boyfriend shows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. _NEW_ Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __New__
> 
> Tauriel, Legolas, and Thranduil have family dinner. Thranduil asks Tauriel what she plans to do with her future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of minor changes are happening. There were details that were being difficult and I didn’t want to ruin the internal consistency of the story. As it is details in this chapter will not correspond with later chapters, but that will be fixed. Be on the look out for the new and improved versions.

“You can come to the door you know,” Tauriel grumbles when she opens the door of her cousin’s jeep. “You don’t have to just sit here and honk your horn until I figure out that it’s you and come outside.”

Legolas shrugs. “I never said that I wasn’t lazy.”

Tauriel rolls her eyes and slams the door.

“Hey! Gentle with the machinery,” Legolas admonishes. “I don’t want you breaking the window. If it’s not rolled up all the way it can happen.”

“It is just a car door,” Tauriel counters. “Does it matter that much to you?” When she sees his incredulous face — his eyes wide — she adds, “ _ If _ I break it, I’ll pay for it.”

“That’s not the point,” Legolas sighs longsufferingly.

“Then what is the point?”

“Just don’t break my car, please,” Legolas pleads as he puts the car in drive.

Tauriel buckles her seatbelt. “Is anyone else going to be there tonight?”

“Uh…” Legolas thinks aloud; buying himself some time. He stops at a stop sign and looks around. He does not finish his thought until he is back up to speed. “No.”

“It’s just going to be me, you, and ada?” Tauriel frowns.

Legolas answer without taking his eyes from the road. “That’s what it looks like.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?” Tauriel demands.

“Because you would have found some reason not to come.” Legolas glances in her direction. “If it’s just me and ada we just end up staring at one another. He asks me what I’m going to do with my life. I tell him I want to work in wildlife preservation. He asks me if I’m going to spend my entire life living in his house. I tell him that that’s the plan, because if I left I would have to learn how to cook. From there the meal turns into a staring contest.”

“I think you’re exaggerating for effect,” Tauriel accuses as she stares out the window at the windy moors. The heather is brown and stiff after the long dry months of summer.

“I promise that I am not exaggerating. That was how family dinners went most of the time while you were in the Guard. And if there was anyone else it was usually just Uncle Elrond, because our cousins were away at college, or, in Arwen’s case, spending time with her grandparents on the other side of the country.”

Tauriel crosses her arms. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“You must believe that it could have been that bad, because you don’t want to come to one when there will be the three of us.”

Tauriel scowls out the window. “You’re just being a wuss.”

“And you’re just being dramatic,” Legolas accuses.

After that the two ride in silence until they come to a stop in the driveway in front of Thranduil’s manor.

“Do you know what’s for dinner, at least?”

“I have no idea. He didn’t send me to the store this time.”

“Fine. Let’s hope that he hasn’t been watching to the foreign cooking channel. He always gets too creative with his spices when that happens.”

“You have no idea,” Legolas groans. “He was on a curry streak for weeks while you were away. As long as it isn’t curry then I’ll be happy.”

— —

“Tauriel, have you thought about what I said last week?” Thranduil asks after all the food has been served.

“Which thing?” Tauriel asks even though she knows full well which thing that Thranduil is referring to. He had called her up several times last week to talk about it. She had actually started letting his calls go to voicemail just so that she would not have to talk about it.

“College,” Thranduil says shortly. “Or do you intend to work in that office for the rest of your life?”

“For the moment, I am okay working in that office,” Tauriel lies. “I do not want to do it forever, but I have not thought about what else I might want to do.”

“Hmph,” Thranduil grumbles. “You should at least take some classes. You could find out what you want to do while knocking out some of those … what are they called? … Prerequisites … No …”

“Gen eds?” Legolas offers.

Thranduil snaps his fingers. “Yes! Those. You could figure out what you want to do while taking care of some of the gen-eds.” His eyes flash with excitement. “There is still time to get you enrolled for the fall semester at Erebor University. You could finally get on the right track.”

“Are you saying that I am on the wrong track because I joined the Guard?” Tauriel demands; her grip tightens on her fork.

“Of course not,” Thranduil replies calmly as he carefully cuts his steak. “But that is over now and it time to start working on something new.”

“My job is something new.” Tauriel replies shortly.

Thranduil corrects himself, “Something new and worthwhile.”

“What constitutes ‘worthwhile’?” Tauriel asks. “I get paid for my work. I think that that makes it worthwhile.”

Thranduil’s eyebrows knit together in consternation. “Something that you want to do. Something that uses your potential.” He looks at her — his gaze is level and steady. “If I thought that all you were capable of contributing to the world was whatever-it-is-that-you-do at that office then I wouldn’t keep pestering you. But I think that you can do so much more than that. I think you can do so much more than you did when you were in the Guard. I know. I know. The Guard provided you with the training that allows you to excel at your current job. But they did not train you for anything else, anything better.

You’re 25 now. It’s time to stop being rebellious just for the sake of being rebellious.” Thranduil admonishes.

Tauriel’s palms ache where she was digging her nails into them. “I am fine with what I am doing right now,” she bites out.

“I know. But how will you feel in 6 months? A year? Several years? I don’t want you to become tired of being mediocre and have nothing to turn to. If you take some classes, you will be moving forward, past your time in the Guard, past everything. Those classes could mean that in 2 years when you finally have picked a path in life that you will only have 2 years before you can move into that field rather than the full 4 years.”

“How about I cross that bridge when I come to it?”

“But if there is no bridge you won’t be able to cross it, will you?” Thranduil counters. “Plus, that money the Guard supplies for tuition, doesn’t that have a “redeem by” date?”

“I don’t know,” Tauriel replies shortly in an attempt to bring the topic to a close.

“I just want to you think about it,” Thranduil says calmly. “And maybe you should listen to me this time. I gave in and signed the papers when you wanted to join the Guard even though I did not think it was best, and we all know how  _ that _ turned out.”

The meal proceeds in silence until Legolas brings up the football match, the Minis Tirith Stars vs. the Misty Mountain Orcs.

Legolas shrugs when Tauriel catches his eye. “ _ What can you do?”  _ He mouths silently.

Tauriel kicks him under the table — hard. 

— —

After dinner Tauriel helped Thranduil clean up the kitchen. He seemed content to leave the topic of college alone until a later date. He ended up raving about a book he had just finished reading while Tauriel only half-listened. Despite her inattention she found herself tucking a copy of the book into her back and promising Thranduil that she would read it and let him know what she thinks about it as she is walking out the door.

“See that wasn’t so bad,” Legolas says as the climb into his car in the last summer evening dusk.

“It was that bad.” 

“Really? I thought it went pretty well. I was expecting you two to yell at each other, to be honest. I thought it may have ended like your “conversations” about the Guard did when we were in high school.”

“I guess it wasn’t as bad as that,” Tauriel acquiesces. 

Night has completely fallen before either of them speaks again.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Legolas asks. “Or do you want to do something fun.”

“Just take me home, please, Legs,” Tauriel says quietly. “I’m tired and I have to be to work early tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure that you can’t do one drink?” Legolas pleads. The Durin’s are finished up coursework for classes they’re taking over the summer. They don’t have time to come drinking with me.”

Tauriel chuckles. “I’m sure that if you asked Fili would join you.”

“I know. But he blamed me when he failed that Elvish class last fall after I got him to go out with me.”

Tauriel smiles and leans her head against the glass window. “Maybe next time, Legs. Saturday?”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m not making any promises. It might just have to be some wine at my place.”

“That counts.” 

— — 

Tauriel unlocks the grey door that lets her into her home. She was lucky enough to end up renting the last house in the row, and her only neighbors were rarely home and quiet when they were.

She locks the door behind her and drops her keys on the hallway table. She navigates the house in darkness as she makes her way to the second floor to her bedroom. The street lights filter in through the curtains and soften all the hard edges in the room. She turns on the lamp besides her bed, picks up the book she had been reading, and lays on top of the covers.

She lays the book aside after she reads the same sentence for the fifth time. Tauriel was trying to focus on the book, but her thoughts kept wandering. Tucking her hands behind her head she thinks about what her uncle said at dinner. Maybe he was right, maybe she should take some classes. Working as Tech Support at Long Lake High School was alright, but it was not exciting and she definitely did not want to be cleaning pop out of keyboards and running virus scans to eradicate Trojan viruses in a decade. She had spent a year doing it, and it was already getting a bit old. 

On the other hand, after the Guard and the events that took place, the monotony, the predictability, and the quiet were a nice change of pace. She was keeping her head down and it was working pretty well so far. She liked keeping to herself and not drawing attention to herself. She had been doing the opposite for far too long.

Tauriel sighs and watches the headlights of cars dance across her ceiling as they drive past. She does agree with Thranduil on one point — something needs to change.


	2. Chapter 2

 24-Hour Coffee Shop

Tauriel stares at the television. She is watching it, but not watching at the same time. She had gone to bed when she got home from her shift, but she had woken up a few hours ago and had not yet changed out of her pajamas. It occurs to her that she should change, but why bother, there is no one to impress and her shift is not for several hours. The blue and white striped cotton pants and oversized t-shirt – Greenwood Rowing something Legolas had left over at her place at some point – are comfortable giving her no reason or incentive to change out of them. The next episode starts playing automatically when the other episode’s credits started rolling.

She jumps when there is a knock on her front door. She twists awkwardly and more than a little painfully, to look through the front door’s window without getting up. When she sees no one – admitted it is a terrible angle and how on earth could she expect to say anyone – she returns to her lounged position assuming it was the postman leaving something, or some kids playing a prank. When the knock does not come again, she settles down into the sofa cushions even further.

Tauriel is startled again only a few moments later. This time it is not by a knock at the door, but rather from a knock at the window above her head. This time she only has to peer over the low back of the sofa where she is confronted by Legolas’ face, which is smooshed against the glass. Tauriel rolls her eyes and turns back to the television.

Legolas knocks again and she turns to face him again. He has pulled his face back from the glass and is holding up a grocery bag. He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Tauriel rolls her eyes again and rolls of the couch and pads her way to the door. As soon as the locks click as they are undone Legolas is pushing his way inside and past Tauriel.

“What have you been doing?” Legolas asks as he flops over the back of a chair to sit down.

Tauriel does not answer until she has resumed her slug-like lounging position on the sofa. “Sleeping. Watching this,” she gestures to the television, which is playing an episode of _Survivor: Moria._

“You’re still watching that one? I thought you’d at least be on to _Survivor: Fangorn_ ,” Legolas says plopping the bag onto the hardwood floor. “You’ve been slacking,” he teases.

Tauriel rolls her eyes and tosses a sofa pillow in Legolas’ direction, which he dodges deftly, knocking the pillow away. “What’s in the bag?”

Legolas grins and pulls out two wine bottles by their necks. “Dowinion,” he says with a wink. I thought that if you won’t come out then we’ll all come in.

“Now?” Tauriel asks raising her eyeborws and looking down at her pajamas.

“No. Later,” Legolas assures her. “A party that starts at,” he pulls out his phone to check the time, “6:27 is lame. Later. Probably not until it gets dark. You’ll have plenty of time to change into some fancier pants.”

“Yep, fancy pants, that’s all I need,” Tauriel says as she snatches up the remote and turns the television volume down a few levels.

“Any exciting plans for the weekend then, Tau? Or is it just going to be more of you and the telly?”

“I’m just going to do the same thing I do every weekend. Let the high schoolers work the weekend while I do . . . whatever . . . here.”

“Laaammee.” Legolas tosses the pillow back at her. “You could always come along with Fíli, Kíli, and I to the RenFair.”

“Not that that doesn’t sound like fun . . .” Tauriel trails off. She keeps folding and unfolding the piece of paper that is in the pocket of her sleeveless t-shirt hoodie.

Legolas completes her sentence, “But you’ll stay here. I know, I know. You never come out.”

Tauriel shrugs and keeps rolling the paper between her fingers. She looks away from Legolas.

“What are you messing with?” Legolas gestures to her pocket.

Tauriel jerks her hands out of the pocket. “Nothing.” She continues speaking, interrupting what Legolas starts to say, and changing the subject, “How’s your _girliefriend_ doing?”

“Fine, I assume. We called it off.” While Legolas is speaking, he is not paying attention to what he is saying. Rather, he stands up and pretends to stretch. But, when he finishes speaking he lunges for her making a grab for her pocket so that he can get what she was playing with in her pocket.

“No!” Tauriel squeaks, rolling away from Legolas’ searching hands. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Legolas grabs her around the waist and lifts her of the ground as she shouts at him. He keeps grabbing for the paper and she shoves his hands away and tries to push herself from his grasp. They both laugh as they collapse into a heap on the floor; Legolas’ hands searching and tickling and Tauriel squirming to escape. Escape from Legolas’ long arms is impossible, even when she pushes him away with her legs.

Tauriel aims a playful kick at Legolas’ head, which he deftly avoids. He pins her legs down as she squirms away from his tickling fingers. Legolas pushes himself away quickly as soon as he has hold of the piece of paper that is now crumpled and half-torn. He grins triumphantly. He scrambles away into the kitchen – whose half-wall opens into the living room – as he dodges Tauriel’s attempts to grab it back.

Tauriel glares at Legolas’ grinning face. She frowns and then leans against the arm of the couch. “Fine. I don’t care.”

Legolas raises his eyebrows, not at all off put by her ruse of nonchalance. He takes this chance to read what is on the paper aloud. “Bard Bowman, 56-7322 . . .” he pauses and looks up at her over the countertop. “Who’s Bard?”

Tauriel groans and rolls up onto the sofa. “Just some guy who’s a regular at the coffee shop.”

Legolas jumps over the counter. “And?” he prompts before sitting down in the armchair again.

“He comes in; orders a coffee and a bagel; and sits in the corner chair reading. That’s it. Today he forgot his book. So, we talked. He left his number on his receipt under the plate. That’s all.”

“Have you texted or called him then?”

“No. And I don’t know if I’m going to.”

“Why ever not?”

“So many reasons,” Tauriel says. “He’s older than me, and he’s got three kids for starters, and . . .” She leans back. Her head makes a hollow ‘thunk’ sound when it hits the wooden arm support of the sofa.

“If he isn’t married to the children’s mother then that shouldn’t be an issue,” Legolas interrupts.

“That’s _not_ what I’m worried about. It just makes any relationship that much more serious inherently. Because of his kids. I don’t think I want anything even close to that level of serious right now.”

“You don’t want anything! Even if it is completely casual,” Legolas says exasperatedly. “You remember when Kili asked you out when you first got back? I guarantee there was no complexity or serious implications there. He just wanted to see a move and be friendly and you _still_ turned him down.”

“But you remember how he was in high school . . .”

“Yeah, he was a bit of a twitterpatted idiot then. But, that was years ago; he still fancies you a bit though. It was mostly for old-time’s sake.” Legolas stretches and snags her phone from the counter.

“What are you doing?” Tauriel sits up and stares at him.

Legolas does not reply. Until he drops her phone and the piece of paper onto the coffee table. “I texted him for you.”

“What?!” Tauriel shoots upright. “Why?”

“You need to get out of this house, Tau. I know you like it . . . but, I don’t think it’s completely healthy.”

“Staying in lets me save up for that camping trip I’m planning on taking soon.”

“You could have taken that trip months ago. Just go on a date with the poor guy. God knows he probably needs it with three kids – how old did you say they were? –”

“Seven and under,” Tauriel frowns.

“Right. If you don’t like it, then you don’t have to do it again. Just . . . don’t burn any bridges, yeah? Dori wouldn’t like that if the guy’s a regular.”

Tauriel rolls her eyes. “I doubt that he’ll reply. He’s probably thought better of asking out an ex-Guard who works in a coffee shop for a living now by now.”

**xxx**

“Frodo hasn’t been practicing at home,” Bilbo explains. “I keep telling him that he needs to, but . . .” Bilbo spreads his hands wide and shakes his head.

“He play with Bain sometime. I can hardly make Bain eat sometimes. He almost has the stupid ball attached to him at all times. He keep trying to teach Til and Sigrid how to play. They have no interest in it. Maybe when they’re older, but not now.” Bard stretches his arms out in front of him. He had discarded his tie right after work; the jacket had waited until he was sitting on the bleaches watching Bain’s soccer practice. He has rolled his sleeves up as far as he can. His shoes and socks sit on the bench next to him, his pants cuffed up, and his bare feet resting on the bench in front of him.

Bilbo snorts at the thought of Sigrid in her fancy dresses kicking a muddy ball around a pitch.  “I’m sure that Frodo would like that. I’ll have to pry his fingers off the game controller first, but after that I’m sure he’d have fun.”

Bard grins. “I take it that he is adjusting well then?”

“Just fine. It probably helps that I am his uncle. I think he’d have a much harder time with strangers. He’s got his sessions with the grief counselor once a week and the therapist has nothing but good things to say about how Frodo is coping.” Bilbo runs his hands through his short pre-maturely greying hair, making it stand on end. A look that is distinctly at odds with his crisp, rugby-striped polo, cuffed khaki shorts, and Sperrys.

“Probably,” Bard agrees. He is about to turn his attention back to the pitch that is brown from the summer that has been unnaturally dry when his pocket vibrates. He digs the phone out of his work pants. He slides his thumb across the lock screen that sports a picture of his three children from their last family vacation. He smiles when he sees the message itself.

“What is it?” Bilbo inquires.

Bard finishes tapping out a quick response before replying to Bilbo’s question. “Just a lass I gave my number to,” he says as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“Really? It’s been long enough. Where did you meet her?”

"She works at that twenty-four hour coffee shop that I stop at in the mornings.”

“Oooh,” Bilbo grins.

“Yeah, yeah . . .” Bard trails off and they both become distracted by the excited shouting that is coming from the pitch.

Bard stands up, shouting, and clapping as he watches Bain score a goal.

**xxx**

Tauriel is glaring at Legolas over the coffee table and her silent, dark phone, and they are not speaking. _Survivor: Moria_ has started the next episode automatically and the introductory theme music is playing. Legolas is grinning at her. His grin only grows wider when Tauriel’s phone dings a moment later, a few minutes after Legolas sent the original text. He snatches the phone before Tauriel gets a chance. He glances at the message. “Guess who?” he asks with a wide grin as he tosses the phone into Tauriel’s waiting hands.


	3. Chapter 3

24-Hour Coffee Shop

Tauriel hates the midnight shift of the coffee shop. She has asked Legolas to switch shifts with her countless times, but he always refuses with a smile. Legolas has the morning shift with one of his classmates from university, Kíli. Legolas does not even need the job in Dori's coffee shop, his father's political position and family wealth leaves him well off. While the morning shift was busy, the steady stream of customers and orders made the 8hr shifts fly by as she had learned when she had covered Kíli’s shift one day. This was the best job that she could find though without leaving the town of Dale. If she left, if she went back to Greenwood, there would be plenty of jobs, or if she travelled to the more populated west or south. However, the quiet of the desolate North suits her for the time being. It is here that she wants to be.

The midnight shifts, 10pm-6am, however are boring. She has caught herself falling asleep on the bar with a book in her hands more than once. The one good thing about this shift was that it supplies her with ample time to read some of the hundreds of books that are on her 'to-read' list. Tonight she cannot get into the volume that is now laying open and face down on the countertop, 'Reading in the Dark'. It is interesting, she wants to read it, but she cannot seem to get into the story. Therefore, she finds other things to do with her time.  

Tonight she has washed every surface in the small coffee shop, but not a single customer has shown their face through the frosted windows covered with leafy green, sheer curtains. During the day, the curtains give the shop and its primarily brown interior a green glow. A glow that almost makes one feel like they are sitting outside under their favorite tree reading a novel in the spring. At night, they hang against the windows and wall and look dreary and tired. They are only waiting for the sunrise to come to life again.

Tauriel cannot fathom why Dori keeps the shop open overnight. Tauriel has served less than 10 different people in the several months that she has worked here. These 10 people usually showed up around midnight or early in the morning to get coffee that they did not have time to make themselves before heading off to work in their black, blue, and grey business suits. If she had bothered she could have known all of their names by now along with their life stories, but she did not care enough. Despite her best efforts to ignore the customers and block out her hours at work she had come to recognize her usual customers.  Most of them were part of the business suit crowd and the rest were bedraggled looking college students who were taking summer classes. She tried to get Legolas and his friends to stop by, to give her someone to talk to, but he said it was too late for coffee, besides he needed to sleep before his shift.

At five o’clock exactly when the bell on the door jingles causing Tauriel to look up from her intensive inspection of the marbled countertop. It is one of the ten. He stays the longest out of all of them. Most are in before midnight, or show up in the last ten minutes of her shift. This one, however, sits in the shop for at least an hour. He drinks his coffee slowly and eats his bagel with cream cheese while he reads a book. If she is honest with herself, she admits that it feels a bit awkward to spend an hour sitting in a room with only one other person every day and not speaking with them.

Tauriel straightens. “The usual?” she asks him.

A smile splits the man’s tanned skin – she assumes he must do outdoors activities on the weekends when he is not wearing a suit – revealing straight white teeth. “Yep. Medium hazelnut, with two creams and a plain bagel.

Tauriel turns to pour the coffee that she had started about ten minutes earlier in anticipation of his arrival. The dark-haired man leans on the counter watching her. She sets the dingy white mug and matching plate holding a lightly toasted bagel in front of the man. “Is that all?”

He smiles again, “Yes.” He presses a crumpled ten into her hands. “Keep the change.”

Tauriel frowns a bit; tips while encouraged were rare and if they do happen, a few coins make up the tip. She breaks that change out of the till and puts the ‘tip’ into the jar that will be emptied at the end of shift. The coins make a hollow ‘clinking’ noise in the empty glass jar.

He takes his coffee and his toasted bagel and sits down on one of the stools at the bar rather than sitting in the corner – in an overstuffed green suede chair – where he normally sits. Tauriel resumes her seat behind the counter where she props her feet up and stares at the ceiling. The same thing that she was doing before the customer walked in. Occasionally she will look over to check the time on the clock; she is counting the minutes until Legolas and Kíli will arrive to take her place so she can go back to her lonely apartment and sleep.

“No book today, I see.”

Tauriel starts at the unexpected voice. They sit silently until her shift is over. That is what they do. They have never exchanged words beyond the customary politeness when he places his order. She looks over at him, her bright red hair swinging around her face from the bob she had gotten. God she hates this hairstyle, but the stylist had suggested it, she had said that it would complement her cheekbones. Stylist be damned, her hair was always getting in the way now and there was no way to control it. “I couldn’t focus,” she gestures to the book that is still laying on the counter.

He leans forward to check the cover.

“You? You’re always reading something,” Tauriel adjusts her position so that she is leaning forward on her elbows on to the counter.

“Ah,” he sighs taking a deep drink from his coffee. “It got left behind this morning. I think I left it on the kitchen table. My children were running wild. It was a crazy morning. I _really_ need this cup of coffee.” He smiles broadly before taking another sip from his mug.

“Children?” Tauriel asks, surprised. He never struck her as having children. He looks a lot like someone who would never have children and goes golfing with friends from the office on the weekends.

He laughs softly. “I know what you’re thinking.” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t look like I’d have kids. Trust me; I didn’t always look like this. I was scruffy until the kids came along. I need to support them and this job pays for that and my hobbies. I’ve got three children under the age of 9; Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda.”

“Jeez,” Tauriel breaths.

“Is there any rhyme or reason for the books that you are reading,” he inquires, changing the subject.

“Just catching up on my ‘to-read’ list. It had gotten out of control over the past several years.”

“Any reason why it got out of control?” He smiles, “Or are there just too many books and not enough time?”

“I was part of Mirkwood’s Guard for the past four years. The time that I had for reading I was too tired too so I opted for sleep.”

His eyes widen at her admittance to being in the Guard. “What are you planning on doing now? Besides working her in a coffee shop?”

“To be honest,” she sighs, meeting his warm hazel eyes, “I’m not sure.” Normally, she would be uncomfortable revealing information to a stranger. But, he is not really a stranger. She has seen him every day for the past several months, plus . . . something about him is just so welcoming and she feels pulled in his direction.

“Legolas, my co-worker – you might have seen him, he’s the blonde guy who works the shift after me – has been trying to get me to enroll in some courses at Erebor U. I’ve considered it, but I don’t know what courses that I would take.”

“What I really want to do is travel across Middle Earth, camping and exploring. I’ve spent my whole life right in this area. That’s really the only thing that appeals to me, but that takes money that I don’t have.”

“Even when you were in the Guard,” he asks, crunching on his bagel, “I thought they were all about sending their people out to help with all of the ‘less fortunate.”

“They are!” Tauriel assures him. “But, I’m a woman; we spend most of our time doing clerical work. The only time I left the Greenwood was when they send us to Harad to help rebuild and clean up after a hurricane that they had a few years back. That was exciting, but, other than that, I spent all of my time behind a desk while the men went off and did fun things.”

“Hmmm,” the man grunts. “That sounds like no fun. I considered the Guard before my children were born, but I never thought that anyone would be stuck behind a desk.”

“Anyways, you seem to like reading. Why don’t you take English courses for a degree in English,” he suggests.

Tauriel scoffs. “What use is an English degree?”

He stares back at her, his hazel eyes wide. “What use is an Art History degree?” he asks gesturing to himself.

Tauriel looks down at the counter. She can feel a flush rising to her cheeks in embarrassment. When she looks up again he seems unconcerned. His lips keep quirking into a smile. Tauriel smiles back shyly.

The door opens and the bell rings. It is the first of the rest of her customers. Tauriel quickly serves him a large black coffee in a cardboard cup. When she returns to the man at the bar that she was talking to, he has drained his cup and is standing up.

“It’s been lovely talking to you,” he says with a serious expression. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He extends his hand out to shake her hand. When Tauriel takes his hand – she wonders at the rough callouses on his hand, deskwork would not cause those – he pulls her closer and presses a chaste kiss to her cheek. He lets go of her hand when she starts. He grins at her cheekily before striding to the door.

“Oh,” he pauses when he is halfway out the door, holding what is left of his bagel in one hand. “By the way, my name’s Bard.”

With that, he is gone into the orange glow of the summer sunrise. He leaves Tauriel standing behind the counter blushing and stuttering. She smiles as she moves to pick up the mug and plate that are left on the counter. There is a piece of paper that is left under the plate. In messy handwriting, there is a phone number and his name, Bard Bowman. Tauriel quickly tucks that paper under the pocket of her jeans before moving to serve the next customer who has just walked in.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the date

24-Hour Coffee Shop

Legolas, Fíli, and Kíli left Tauriel’s house hours before. However, she cannot sleep. It is the curse of working a night shift, but wanting to socialize with people during the daylight hours. It wreaks havoc on her sleep schedule. If she does not maintain her schedule over the weekend, working on Monday is always hell. She finds herself nodding off every few minutes, hitting her head on the counter, and struggling to keep her eyelids open. Mondays when her sleep schedule has been altered drag by, each minute takes a year to pass and every hour is an eternity.

Right now, she is warm and everything is pleasantly fuzzy. Together the four of them finished off the Dorwinion wine and started on some of the stuff that Fíli and Kíli brought with them. She is sprawled in the large king-size that her uncle, Thranduil, had insisted on buying her when she insisted on getting her own place rather than moving back into his large home. Thranduil’s large country home has more than enough room. Legolas still lives at home while he finishes up at university. That is where the problem lies. That is the reason why Tauriel insisted on using her pay – which sat mostly untouched for four years – to acquire this house. Legolas was around, which means that Fíli, Kíli, Strider, and the rest of his friends are always hanging around. Moreover, all of them can be quite loud. She wants a place where she can have peace and quiet. Her house is quiet. Her world is quiet when she is at home.

Tauriel adjusts one of the pillows and rolls over onto her stomach. She pulls her phone out to read over the texts that she and Bard had exchanged making plans for tomorrow.

**_\--_ ** _Bard, this is Tauriel. Now you have my number ;) – τ_

Tauriel rolls her eyes when she sees the ridiculous message that Legolas had sent on her behalf.

**_\--_ ** _Should I take it that you are interested in a date then? How does tomorrow sound? – B.B._

**_\--_ ** _What would a date tomorrow entail? – τ_

**_\--_ ** _My son, Bain, has the tournaments for his summer soccer league tomorrow. I’ll be at the soccer pitches all day. Casual and no pressure. – B.B._

**_\--_ ** _I thought you said you had three children? – τ_

**_\--_ ** _I do. Til and Sigrid will be with their grandparents. It’s a long day and neither of them are all that fond of soccer yet. Plus my mother’s been wanting to take them to the zoo for quite a while. – B.B._

**_\--_ ** _Sounds good to me. – τ_

Bard’s next message contained the name of the park and the time. Tauriel was greatly relieved that he had proposed nothing more demanding, such as a restaurant. Casual and

relaxed indeed. That was an idea that she would enjoy. The only thing that makes her a little uncomfortable is the fact that there is no definitive head and that his son will be there. She does not feel ready to meet any of Bard’s children when she is not even sure if she likes him at all. Tauriel has never spent much time with children and she is unsure of how to act with them. Honestly, she cannot recall the last time she even spoke to a child.

**xxx**

            Tauriel takes one last look at herself in the hall mirror before she walks out the front door the next morning. She had pulled on a pair of cut off jean shorts and one of her Guard t-shirts. She straightens her shirt and looks once more. Her red hair is cropped short and she cannot do anything with it, it does what it wants. She has a ball cap in her bag in case it should become too unruly. She wiggles her toes in her flip-flops and adjusts the messenger bag that hangs from her shoulder.

            “Maybe I should change,” Tauriel says to her reflection. “Put on something nicer.”

            Tauriel frowns. It was a park, watching a children’s soccer tournament. Besides, she is comfortable in this. Anything else will probably prove to be uncomfortable after a few hours sitting in the hot sun. Without a second thought on the subject, she walks out the door and down the street to the bus stop on the corner.

            When she gets off the blue and orange bus at the park she almost turns around and gets back on to go back home to her quiet house. Children dressed in soccer kits, screaming, or both immediately surround Tauriel. Parents are shouting at their children, children are screaming at their parents and one another. Children are running back and forth, while most of their parents stand still, and a few chase after them. Teenagers sit separated from everyone else staring and judging, but at least they are silent. She must be the only person under fifty and over fifteen who is not there with a gaggle of children. Moreover, it makes her supremely uncomfortable.

“I might not _have_ kid, but I’m here to watch one play. That makes this not weird, right?” Tauriel mumbles to herself.

She starts to work her way through the children, but she looks over the crowd trying to spy the soccer pitches or spot Bard’s dark hair. However, there are so many children and parents, and fathers with dark hair that she turns around to walk back to the bus stop – or maybe to the one a few streets over where it is quieter. ‘This is too weird.’

Tauriel stops in the middle of the sidewalk though – causing many of the parents who are in a rush to get their children somewhere to look at her askance – when it occurs to her that it would be really rude to leave without saying anything to Bard, especially seeing as that it is not his fault that she will be unable to find him. When she glances up, however, she catches sight of Bard’s dark hair, pushed back with sunglasses, accompanied by a curly haired boy that she can only assume is his son, Bain, walking away from her.

The pair is too far away for her to shout and with the mad crush of mothers and children; she cannot run to catch up with them without bowling over several children who are no taller than her thighs. She settles for keep them in sight and following them as best she can. This, however, makes her feel even more out of place than she did before. To turn around now, however, would be for all of her uncomfortable feelings to have happened in vain.

Tauriel follows them until the crowd breaks apart and she is given the chance to catch up with Bard and his son.

“Got everything?” Bard asks Bain, handing his son a water bottle.

Bain nods his head, curls bouncing.

Bard turns after his son walks away to join a group of boys of similar size all wearing green soccer jerseys and shorts. His grim face breaks into smile that transforms his face, and his hazel eyes sparkle brightly in the sunlight. He wears a t-shirt, cargo shorts, and sandals. His snug fitting t-shirt reveals far more muscular definition than a button down and suit jacket ever did. “You made it,” Bard says smiling, moving in to give her a hug.

Tauriel intercepts his attempted hug by putting her hand forward to shake his hand. Bard’s smile falters a little bit, but he shakes her hand warmly instead. “Are the bleachers okay? I have camp chairs in my car if you’d prefer those.” Bard gestures over his shoulder in the direction of the car park.

Tauriel stuffs her hands in to the pockets of her shorts. “The bleachers are fine with me.”

Tauriel follows Bard up the bleachers where they take a seat among the growing crowd. Bard stretches and leans back against the bleacher bench behind them and tilts his head back.

“It’s a nice day.”

Tauriel looks at him. “You want to talk about the weather?”

Bard turns and looks at her through the corner of his eye. “No. Just figured that it would be a good place to start.”

“In that case then,” Tauriel smiles, “It’s dry.”

Bard squints at the sky. “It’s been too dry. I have to water my garden every night.”

“At least you water yours. I should water mine, but I don’t. All the plants are dead and brown.”

Bard makes a tsking sound and shakes his head. “Those poor plants.”

“They’d probably be dead anyways. Last summer the neighborhood kids took to ripping up all of the plants. At least that’s what my neighbors told me. I have tried not to invest to much energy into a garden that I knew would be devastated.”

“Kids,” Bard rolls his eyes.

“Is Bain your only son then? Didn’t you say that you had three? Are they older or younger” Tauriel asks, changing the subject.

“Bain’s my oldest, he’s seven. Tilda – Til – and Sigrid, my daughters, are younger. They’re five and four. Between the three of them they get me to do the most foolish things.”

“Foolish?”

“Aye.” Bard turns to face her with a smile on his face. “Foolish.”

“How foolish?” Tauriel asks, rising to meet the bait.

Bard smiles and pauses dramatically scratching his chin. He is relishing in the opportunity to share stories about his children with people who have never heard them before. “Well, quite foolish. Are you sure you want to hear them?”

“Yes!” Tauriel says louder than she intended. After all, of this baiting she knows she will feel cheated if she does not get to hear this story about Bard’s ‘foolish’ behavior.

“Well,” Bard runs his hand through his hair. “This one happened this past spring. The snow was just beginning to melt. Even so, there was muddy puddles and small piles of dirty snow filling our back garden. However, Bain wanted to pull out the soccer ball and start kicking it around. Even the girls wanted to be outside for that. Personally, I think they were going a bit stir crazy being cooped up inside all of last winter. Bain kicked the ball over the garden wall. I asked him what we were going to do now. He said the only thing to do would be to climb over the wall and get it. I asked him who was going to do that. I said that he was a bit short for climbing the wall, was I going to have to toss him over the wall. He said I should do it. I said now. But, then he started chanting ‘Climb! Climb! Climb!’ and the girls joined in.”

Bard shrugs, “I was left with the only option of climbing over the wall. So, I did. It was a bit difficult going over, but that ended all right. I sort of,” Bard makes a rolling gesture with his hands, “Off the wall and landed on my side. I tossed the ball back. I heard them cheering. It went to my head. This time when I climbed back, I stood on the top of the wall. The three of them cheered more. I jumped down. This time I did not land so smoothly. I twisted my ankle and it hurt like a bastard. But they were cheering, so I didn’t let myself fall, nor did I go to A&E until the next day when my ankle was three times it’s normal size,” he holds his hands apart to demonstrate the size. “I had to wear a brace for weeks. The sad thing is. I would do it again. Their cheers was more than worth the pain of a sprained ankle.”

Tauriel is laughing. Not just from the story but from the faces and hand gestures that Bard makes as he is telling the story. “That was foolish,” she giggles. “Kids do crazy things and get others to do crazy things as well.”

“Time for a story from you.”

“What?” Tauriel says franticly searching her memory for a suitable funny story.

“I told you an embarrassing but funny story. I should get one in return.”

“But I don’t have any kids,” Tauriel protests.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bard says, brushing her concern away. “Any funny story will work. It can be one from when you were a kid.”

Tauriel looks at him and then gazes out of the pitch where a game has started – neither team is wearing Bain’s green jersey – and thinks. “I have one, I suppose.”

Bard laces his fingers together behind his head. “Let’s hear it then.”

“I convinced my cousin to break his arm.”

“Oooohh,” Bard makes an impressed noise. “This sounds like it will be a good one.”

“Necessary information. I lived with my uncle and grew up with my cousin Legolas, he’s a bit like a brother. His friends have and had a propensity for being a bit . . . idiotic.”

Bard smiles, and nods for her to continue.

“I think it was the summer that we were ten. Him and his mate, Fíli, were being pesky brats. They wouldn’t let me read in peace.”

“I know that behavior. Bain does it to his sisters quite often,” Bard interrupts.

“It is very annoying,” Tauriel says before continuing. “I wanted to be alone so I climbed up on to the roof of my uncle’s house. There was a perfect nook for reading or hiding. It was easy enough to get to and it was under an outcrop of roof as well. I’d hidden up there many times before. It only involved climbing a drainpipe from the gutters. Fili’s younger brother, however, must have seen me and ran to inform Legolas and Fili about where I was, because I hadn’t even been up there ten minutes when they started shouting for me from the ground.

“Legolas demanded to know how I got up there. I told him and pointed at the drainpipe. I told him that there was no way that he would be able to climb it because he was clumsy and tripped over everything in the house. His father would end up putting him in ballet to correct that. Legolas didn’t stick with the ballet, but he became a lot less clumsy. I probably stuck my tongue out at them as well. Anyways, he started to climb followed closely by Fili. The drainpipe wasn’t meant to support that much weight and it pulled away from the wall the a metallic screech. Which my uncle heard and came running outside just in time to witness the aftermath. I was sitting on the edge of the roof dangling my feet over the edge. Kíli was crying, Fíli was brushing himself off and trying to assure Kíli that he was okay. Worst of all was Legolas’ arm, which had an extra bend.

“He ended up having to call for an ambulance and a firetruck because he couldn’t figure out how to get me down. Moreover, he couldn’t take Legolas to A&E if I was still sitting on the roof. At the time I remember thinking that, it was all a bit silly.

“The three of them were dolts, not that they’ve changed a whole lot.”

“To be honest,” Bard admits with a smile. “I probably would have done the same thing if I had been provoked.”

“Well, maybe you would have been a better climber than the pair of them,” Tauriel teases. “Needless to say, I was safe in my hiding spot for the rest of that summer.

**x**

Once the last game finishes, Bain’s team having won two games and lost one game. The rest of the tournament will take place tomorrow. Bilbo and Frodo Bain climbs the bleachers, leaning obscenely to the side to compensate for his large equipment bag. He comes to a stop in front of his father. Bain’s sweaty hair is pushed back. He stands eye to eye with his father.

“Yes, Bain?”

“I want ice cream,” Bain says firmly.

“Oh, really?”

Bain nods his head sprinkling sweat on Bard – who flinches away – before answering verbally, “We won. I deserve ice cream.”

“Oh, _deserve_ is it now?” Bard chuckles. He stands up and slings Bain, equipment bag and all, over his shoulder.

Bard turns to Tauriel and extends his hand, “Will you be joining us, my lady?”

Tauriel smiles in amusement at his words and takes his hand. Bard pulls her to his feet and closer to him than was strictly required. The pair lock eyes for a moment – Tauriel can feel herself staring to blush – before they are interrupted by Bain shouting, ‘to the car!’

There is an ice cream place just around the corner. It is crowded with other members of Bain’s team along with a handful of other teams. Bain is bouncing up and down trying to figure out what sort of ice cream treat he wants.

Bard ignores his son’s bouncing and turns to Tauriel to ask, “Do you want anything?”

Tauriel smiles. “I’m still deciding. I can’t remember the last time I had ice cream that wasn’t out of a tub.”

“Cones are the best. Do you ever scoop the ice cream out and put it on a cone?” Bain asks, staring up at her, a serious expression on his young face.

Tauriel bends over and stage whisper conspiratorially, “I usually just eat it straight out of a tub with a spoon.”

Bain’s eyes go wide. “Really?”

Tauriel winks.

“It must be so much fun to be a grown up!” Bain turns to his father. “Can I eat ice cream out of the tub?”

Bard rolls his eyes. “Maybe when you’re a grown up. For now, I don’t want all of your cooties in _my_ ice cream.”

Before the conversation could continue the teenaged girl working the window says that she’s ready to take their order. Tauriel starts to pull out her wallet to pay for her ice cream when their ice creams are being passed out. Bard stops her hand, “I’ve got it.”

“But,” Tauriel starts to protest as Bard presses her chocolate and vanilla twist cone into her hands.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I asked a woman on a date and she paid for her own food?” Bard raises his eyebrows, “Right, Bain?”

“A bad one!” Bain pipes in after licking chocolate ice cream from his lips.

“Exactly!” Bard agrees with a smile.

Bain points at Bard’s cone, “You’re losing some ice cream.”

“Oh!” Bard starts and twists the cone so that he can catch the stream of strawberry ice cream laden with brightly colored sprinkles on his tongue.

Tauriel blushes as he lick up the ice cream. “Your ice cream looks like candy vomit,” she says as dryly as possible.  

Bain snorts as he giggles.

Bard, however, looks offended except for the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. “I don’t insult your ice cream,” he says seriously.

Tauriel smiles.

They sit quietly as they finish their ice cream. Bard pulls his keys out and spins them around his finger. “Do you need a ride home?”

“Actually, I’d like to walk home,” Tauriel says with a small smile.

“Alright.” Bard stands up and reaches for her hand to help her to her feet. This time when he pulls her in to a hug, she lets him. Her sense are filled with the smell of sunlight, light sweat, and pine trees. She brings her hands up to rest on his side. Bard squeezes her and then the hug is over.

“I’ll see you Monday then,” Bard says.

“Yeah, Monday,” Tauriel agrees before turning and walking in the direction of her house.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning coffee with Legolas and family dinner with Thranduil, Legolas, Elrond, Arwen, and Strider.
> 
> Thranduil and Legolas are protective.
> 
> Bonus: Thranduil cooks while wearing an apron!

Tauriel pushes open the door to the 24-Hour Coffee Shop on Sunday morning. She is not working; some teenager that she does not recognize is working the cash register while another is preparing the food. She can see Dori’s pre-maturely grey hair through the sheer curtain dividing the back office from the dining area and the small kitchen of the shop. Legolas is sitting in the back pair of green armchairs. His backpack sits in the empty chair claiming a chair for her. Two mugs sit on the low table that sits between the two chairs. One coffee is black and the other is a creamy tan color.

“Why must we meet here?” Tauriel asks as she drops into the chair, which immediately starts conforming to her draped form.

“It’s about half-way between your house and my apartment,” Legolas says, picking up his mug. “Would you rather we meet at some overpriced Starbucks right by my apartment? That would work better for me, I wouldn’t even have to put on real pants. But,” he raises a finger, “On a Sunday there will be no open seats and a line out the door. It will be filled with students doing all the homework that they’ve been avoiding doing all week.”

“We could always have coffee at my place. Then I wouldn’t have to put on pants,” Tauriel shoots back.

“That would not be fair. I’d still have to put on ‘real’ pants. Besides, the chairs in your house are not that comfortable.” Legolas sips his black coffee.

“I’m sure Dori would let us steal some of these chairs,” Tauriel speculates. She picks up her own creamy tan coffee. She sips at it; the hot liquid scalds her tongue.

“And who will help you carry these chairs?”

“You, since you don’t like my furniture.”

Legolas snorts, “That’s what you think.”

“That’s what I know.”

Legolas rolls his eyes before changing the subject. “How was your date?” Legolas’ expression spreads into a cheeky grin.

“Fine,” Tauriel says shortly.

“Oh?” Legolas’ smile fades. “That bad. I’m sorry. But, true to my word, I won’t pressure you to go on another one.”

“Actually, it was fine,” Tauriel corrects Legolas. “It’s just . . . it’s just early, normally I’m asleep at this hour.”

Legolas’ impudent grin is back. “What did you do?”

“His son had a soccer tournament. We just went to the park to watch that. After the matches were over we went for ice cream,” Tauriel summarizes succinctly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Legolas says salaciously with a wink.

“Really?” When Legolas just waggles his eyebrows at Tauriel, she sighs and answers his question shortly, “There was a hug. That’s it. Nothing else.”

Legolas shrugs and goes back to drinking his coffee. “That’s better than nothing.”

This time it is Tauriel’s turn to roll her eyes. “It was nice. I enjoyed it.”

“Will you go out with him again?”

“I dunno . . . maybe, if he asks,” Tauriel mumbles around her coffee, fighting a light blush.

“Or, you could always ask him out. We live in an equal society,” Legolas says, slowly spinning his mug between his long fingers.

“Or, you could go get yourself another girliefriend and stop trying to live vicariously through me,” Tauriel shoots back, gripping her mug tightly.

The corners of Legolas’ lips turn downwards. “I’m not trying to pry. I just want to make sure that this one is better than the last one.”

“Sorry,” Tauriel says softly. “He’d have to try really hard to be as bad as the last one.” She looks away not meeting his eyes, a frown crossing her own face.

Tauriel does not look back at Legolas when she hears him slowly setting his mug on the rough wooden table.

“Hey,” Legolas says quietly reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Tauriel squeezes Legolas’ hand back and meets his blue eyes. “I know. I just . . .,” she trails off.

“I know,” Legolas assures her a smile tugs his lips upwards. He squeezes her hand one last time before letting go and picking up his coffee mug again.

The pair sits in silence for a few minutes, each sipping on their coffee. “Ada wants to know if you’re going to come to family dinner tonight.”

“No,” Tauriel says shortly, answering almost before Legolas finishes asking the question.

Legolas furrows his eyebrows. “You’ve been avoiding them all summer. Ada is worried.”

Tauriel snorts. “I spend four years in the guard and _now_ he’s worried. I work in a coffee shop and live in a decent neighborhood and he’s worried _now_.”

“He was worried then, but there were hundreds of other Guards looking out for you. You’ve only got me now, and I’m not that good at looking after you if you haven’t noticed for the past two decades,” Legolas says self-deprecatingly.

“I don’t want to come.”

“It won’t be just the three of us. Elrond and his daughter are coming. Arwen also said something about bringing a boyfriend along.”

Tauriel does not answer; she just scrunches her nose.

“Please,” Legolas presses. “Arwen’s been asking after you and if you come you’d free me from bearing the brunt of Ada’s attention.”

“Fine, I’ll come,” Tauriel grumbles. “But there better be rhubarb pie.”

**xxx**

Legolas picks Tauriel up at six. “I called Ada about the pie. I have done all that I can to fulfill your demands,” he says as soon as Tauriel opens the door. “It might happen because he is pleased that you are actually coming this time.

“It’s fine,” Tauriel says shoving some rappelling rope off the Jeep’s seat and onto the floor. “I’ll live. I probably should have been coming to some of the dinners before now.”

“Yes, you should have,” Legolas says as he pulls away from Tauriel’s house. “Family dinners with just me and Ada turns into him playing twenty questions with no real objective. Sometimes I get tired of having him dissect my life. We must have gone over my reasons for my breaking up with my last girlfriend about thirty times in twenty different ways.”

“And yet, you wonder why I would rather stay home,” Tauriel snorts. “Please tell me that you did not tell him about my date yesterday.”        

“I didn’t. You can tell him about that yourself. He’s bound to ask.”

“I don’t want him to know about it though. You know how he is.”

“I do indeed,” Legolas grumbles as he turns onto the road that will take them directly to Thranduil’s ridiculously large house and estate in about ten minutes.

“I’d prefer that he not pry on this one. At least not for a while longer. I can only imagine what his opinions will be once he learns that Bard was married and has three children.”

“I might actually pay to see that reaction,” Legolas chuckles.

Tauriel smacks Legolas in the chest, “Ass.”

“Hey! No hitting the driver!” Legolas tries to say sternly while chuckling.

**x**

“Ada!” Legolas shouts as he shoves open the heavy oak door of Thranduil’s home.

“Shouting!” Thranduil’s scolding shout comes from the direction of the kitchen. “You’re inside, Legolas!”

Legolas smirks and Tauriel rolls her eyes at him following him into the bright kitchen full of stainless steel appliances. Thranduil is wearing an apron that, in hot pink script, says ‘kiss the cook’; it was a gag gift from Legolas and Tauriel when they were teenagers. Much to their chagrin Thranduil took to wearing the apron every time that he had an excuse to, which meant every night when he was cooking dinner, and any other time that he was making anything more complex than a sandwich in the kitchen. Today he is wearing the apron over a white oxford and black slacks. His long, silvery blonde hair – a hair color that Legolas shares – is pulled back into a low ponytail.

When Thranduil sees Tauriel he smiles broadly, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the kitchen. “Tau! I’m glad you could make it.” He moves forward to pull her into a quick hug.

“Same,” Tauriel says into Thranduil’s shoulder.

Thranduil releases Tauriel and moves back to check on whatever is in the oven. “Can the two of you set the table? Elrond and Arwen will be here soon. In addition, I hope the roast will be done soon, too. It appears to be refusing to cook.” He narrows his eyebrows in annoyance.

Elrond and his youngest, Arwen arrive only a few minutes later. Arwen drags a young man with scruffy brown hair wearing a rumpled green shirt behind her. She introduces him quickly as Strider. He is in the same year at university and is studying political science. The roast finishes at the same time; the kitchen and dining room are a flurry of activity as the table settings are finished, the family is seated, and everyone is served a portion of all the food that is present on the table; roast beef, carrots, potatoes, onions, and glasses of red wine, Dorwinion, Thranduil’s favorite..

Legolas and Strider immediately hit it off talking about archery and video games. Everyone else at the table tunes them out except for Arwen, who rolls her eyes at Tauriel and returns to pretending to be interest in the boys’ conversation.

Since they are ignoring the boys’ conversation that has turned to archery competitions leaves Tauriel at the mercy of her uncles’ questions.

“We haven’t seen you in quite a while, Tauriel,” Elrond observes in his quiet voice. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been busy. I’ve been working quite a bit,” Tauriel says between bites of roast potatoes.

“Where is it you work again?” Elrond asks.

“It’s a coffee shop that’s open twenty-four hours a day that’s just down the street from my house. I work the night shift.”

“Any social plans?” Thranduil asks his blonde hair freed from its ponytail moving pendulously with his movements.

“Besides Sunday morning coffee with Leggles and this, no.”

“Been seeing anyone?” Thranduil asks. His blue eyes flash in the dim lighting of the dining room.

“I don’t really leave my apartment. I sleep most of the day and work at night. That schedule doesn’t make it really conducive to having any sort of relationship,” Tauriel hedges around the question.

Legolas, clearly listening to both conversations interrupts, “What about that date you had yesterday?” When Tauriel glares and narrows her eyes at Legolas he just winks and smiles.

Elrond and Thranduil both raise their eyebrows. Thranduil puts his utensils down and leans forward onto his elbows. “Who is he?” Thranduil asks seriously. His eyebrows pulled together, a crease appearing between them.

Tauriel shifts uncomfortably. She and Legolas had never told Thranduil any details about her last relationship, but he still figured out that something was not right about it. “He’s just some guy that is a regular at the coffee shop.”

“I want to meet him.”

“I’m not sixteen, Ada,” Tauriel protests. “You can meet him _if_ and only _if_ this goes anywhere or becomes serious.”

Thranduil’s frown deepens. “I can just have my connections check him out,” he says sitting back in the chair.

Now it is Tauriel’s turn to frown. “I’d really prefer it if you didn’t do that. If anything goes wrong you’ll be the first to know,” Tauriel glowers. The last part is a lie and she knows it, but she pushes the guilt away.

Thranduil’s expression darkens. “How about if this lasts any longer than three months, I get to meet him.”

“Fine,” Tauriel snaps and cuts her carrots more forcefully than necessary.


	6. Chapter 6

Tauriel suppresses a yawn as she watches the clock. It is past 4 a.m. on a Monday morning. Family dinner the night before had cut deeply into time that she normally spends sleeping before her shift. She did not even have time for short nap before she had to take over the keys from Dori and his absentminded younger brother, Ori. Less than two hours left before she will be walking out the door and then falling into her bed, probably not even taking her shoes off.

It is raining outside. The quiet patter of rain on the windows does not help Tauriel’s eyelids as she fights to keep them open. It had started raining sometime during the dinner causing Legolas to insist on giving her a ride from her house to the coffee shop before he headed home. The light from the lamps inside the coffee shop catch on the rain drops as they streak down the glass. The movement of the little rivers start out slow until they reach a critical mass and rush down the large windowpanes until they hit the ground where they join the rest of the raindrops that have fallen.

Tauriel stretches her arms over her head in effort to wake up her muscles. She starts pacing back and forth behind the counter. The timer on the oven goes off and she removes the trays of freshly cooked bagels and places them on clean trays in the glass counter. She starts pacing again. The fidgeting is not only because she is trying to keep herself awake, it is also anxious fidgeting. She is still sure that Bard is going to second-guess his decision to go on dates with someone with a military history. She is positive that he is going to start going to some other coffee shop before heading off to work, not that she knows where that is.

Thirty minutes of pacing, fidgeting, and starting a fresh pot of coffee later the bell on the door rings. Tauriel turns expecting it not to be Bard, expecting it to be anybody else but still hoping that it will be him. This hope surprises her, she had not looked forward to something this much, or hoped for anything this much in quite some time. If she is honest with herself she would have to admit that the last time she was this excited was during her early months in the Guard.

Bard smirks when he sees the faint flush that rises to Tauriel’s cheeks. Today his hair, usually neatly combed and pushed back, is disheveled with wisps escaping, standing on end, and laying forward onto his forehead. His green tie is rumpled, and his white shirt is wrinkled, but he still smiles at her disarmingly. Raindrops glisten in his hair and on the shoulders of his grey blazer.

“Usual?” Tauriel asks.

“Yes, but with a conversation, like last week,” Bard affirms.

Once Tauriel places the mug and plate in front of Bard, she hops over the counter so that she can sit on the stool next to him. “How was your Sunday?”

“Busy, I had to get a bunch of paper grading done. I had to spend the entire beautiful day cooped up in my office with a red pen.” Bard crunches on his bagel.

“Grading?”

Bard turns slightly to face her. “I’m an assistant professor at Dale Community College. It’s the end of the semester and I have them all write papers. Every semester I question my life decisions when I have a stack of fifty some papers that I need to grade without failing each and every one of them.” He smiles in amusement. “I feel the urge to fail all of my students quite frequently to be honest.”

Tauriel narrows her eyes, “I don’t think that’s a ‘good’ thing.”

“It isn’t,” Bard confirms, “the administration would be very vexed with me if I failed all of my students. And I’m not tenured so they’d probably fire me if I ever did that.” He sighs looking at his coffee then back at her. “I honestly never thought I’d be one of those people who wears a suit to work every day,” Bard says with a mirthless chuckle.

“What did you think you would be doing?” Tauriel rests her chin in the palm of her hand.

“I really have no idea,” Bard says with a small smile. “I always figured it be something outdoorsy. I have always loved the outdoors and physical activity.”

“How does an art history degree fit into that?”

“What?” Bard narrows his eyes playfully. “People who like art history have to be boring, quiet and soft? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“No, but I’d assume most jobs for that degree are quiet and indoors.”

“You’d be right on that count. I like the classes, the theories, and, most importantly, the art,” Bard sighs.

“If you like being outdoors so much why did you get a job that involves zero outdoors activities?”

“That,” Bard says, “is an easy question to answer. After I graduated from undergrad I was having problems getting a ‘real’ job; a job with any sort of stability that paid decently. I was okay with floundering; everything was all right. I had enough money to pay my bills and save a little, but there was not much wiggle room when it came to the budget.

“And then there was a bump in the road. One that neither Enna, my wife at the time, nor I was expecting. She was pregnant. The wiggle room in the budget was not enough for children, at least not in the long term. For a short while, we would be okay before everything would go tits up.

“Enna and I talked and it seemed that the best thing to do would be for me to go back to school to get a Masters in Art History, since it was really the only marketable skill I had, and all jobs requiring that skill wanted some sort of graduate degree as well. Going back to school and having a job that is primarily indoors would allow me to provide for my family.

“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret that decision for a minute. If I had a job that was outdoors, but did not allow me to support my family I would feel like a failure. This way I only have to give up some personal hobbies that I don’t have as much time for as I would like.”

Tauriel nods slowly. “What are these ‘hobbies’ you do then?”

“Besides playing with my kids?” Bard asks with a cheeky grin. “Alright, alright,” Bard laughs when Tauriel bumps his shoulder firmly with her own. “Boating when I can, Tilda and Sigrid are still a bit small for boats. I was on a rowing team in high school and college, since then I’ve rarely had a chance to be out on the water, but I do make use of the erg in my basement on regular occasions –”

“Erg?” Tauriel interrupts.

“Oh, its uh its an ergonomic rowing machine. Stupid machine compares nothing to being in a single man scull, but when the real boat is not an option it’s the best substitute, even if it is a poor one at that,” Bard explains before continuing.

“The only activity that I’ve really been able to keep up is archery.” Bard sees Tauriel’s eyes light up. “Did you do archery?”

Tauriel nods enthusiastically, her red hair swaying, “I was on a team in high school. I was fairly decent, which is why the Guard started recruiting me when I was a senior.”

Bard sips from his coffee. “You must have been better than ‘decent’ for the Guard to start before you had even graduated. We should go to a range or a competition together sometime.”

“Only if you promise not to cry when you are beaten by a girl,” Tauriel teases.

Bard snorts loudly. “When? You mean if!”

Tauriel makes a sound in her throat. “We’ll see.”

Bard bumps his shoulder into Tauriel almost knocking her off her stool. “And you? What did you do yesterday?” Bard drains the rest of his coffee.

“Slept, but not enough. And had dinner with my family.”

“Hmmm . . .” Bard grumbles around his toasted bagel. He swallows. “That sounds like fun.”

“Probably not as fun as what you’re thinking of,” Tauriel grumps.

“Why not?”

“Legolas abandoned me to talk to talk to my other cousin, Arwen’s, boyfriend. I could have talked with them about the archery, but video games . . .” Tauriel shakes her head. “I never got into most video games. I played some with Leggles when we were little, but when I got older I started reading more while Legolas kept playing them.”

“Never played much of them myself.”

“Anyways,” Tauriel continues. “He left me at the mercy of my uncles. Something he said that he would not do. Then he ratted me out, the little bastard. I got to play twenty questions with them about my life. My uncle, Thranduil, threatened to have some of his people check you out,  _not_  something I want him to even think about doing. And it went downhill from there.”

Bard starts, his eyes widening. “What does your uncle do?”

“Something in a big company,” Tauriel shrugs, “I never paid much attention to it. It makes him plenty of money and lets him do most anything he wants to do regardless of legality.”

“Sounds like a mobster to me,” Bard says skeptically.

“Hmmm…” Tauriel hums before quickly changing the subject. She feels a bit guilty for never paying very much attention to Thranduil’s business and feeling uncomfortable that it is possible that Bard is correct about Thranduil’s actual profession. “If you’re a professor you teach – what, four classes a semester? – Why are you up this early? Every day of the week?”

“It keeps the kids on a schedule and it keeps me doing most of my work in my office rather putting it off and having to do it at home. I also like to teach morning classes to avoid teaching night classes, which cut into my time with my kids. It’s a good schedule, and it allows me to schedule time for myself in to my day. Such as coffees with you,” Bard winks outrageously, “and my Friday afternoon’s off.”

“I know what you do with your mornings, what do you do with that afternoon?”

“I usually go to the park. I like the quiet. Sometimes I go for a run, but that is not as quiet. I like to walk along the lake.” Bard turns to look at her with a smirk. “What are you doing this Friday afternoon?”

“Sitting on my couch in my pajamas watching TV,” Tauriel answers immediately and seriously.

“Would you like differently plans?”

“I don’t know. I like my sofa. I’ve finally gotten the sofa cushions to start conforming to and retaining my form. If I miss an exciting afternoon of that, I may be set back months in that department.”

Bard snorts in amusement. “Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your intimate bonding with your couch . . .” He eats the last of his bagel. “I was just going to ask if you wanted to join me on my Friday afternoon walk in the park this upcoming Friday.”

“Well . . .” Tauriel pretends to think seriously about the proposition. “That sounds like it would be lovely.”

Bard smiles broadly. “It’s a date then.”

Tauriel smiles back, “I suppose it is.”

Bard stands and tosses his napkin into a nearby trashcan. “I’ll look forward to my Friday more than usual then,” he says with a wink.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date #2!
> 
> A sudden downpour, breaking the summer's drought, brings about unexpected results.
> 
> Told more from Bard's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this while listening to "Greek Tragedy" by The Wombats.

24-Hour Coffee Shop

Bard yanks his tie off and throws it in the back seat of his car. The afternoon is sweltering. The sun beats down mercilessly on the asphalt carpark. Bard scans the sky for clouds that could possible cover the son even if for only a few brief seconds. His blazer soon joins the tie in the back seat. He leans against the side of his black SUV. It is nothing flashy, but it got high safety ratings, which is all that matters at this point. He leans back and looks up at the sky; sky that is a greyish- blue.

Bard is early. He knows that. The humid halls of the art building felt oppressive and constricted. He had tacked a note to his door telling his students that the office hours for the day were cancelled, and that they would be resuming their normal schedule on Monday morning. The park is filled with mothers and children. Children squeal as they go down the slide. Bard reminds himself to bring the kids out here over the weekend. Their garden while spacious enough is much too small for even a modestly sized swing set, something that had proven to be quite upsetting to the girls when they found out.

Bard stretches. Then he sees Tauriel walking towards the car park. Her distinctive red hair is luminescent in the afternoon sunlight. Her pale skin glows. Bard smiles. He raises his hand in greeting to catch her attention. He can pinpoint the moment that she sees him standing next to his car. Her entire expression lights up; a thing that makes him feel warm and content. He watches her approach, her freckles popping in to view as she comes closer. He pale skin gleams in the bright sunlight, her bare legs draw his attention until she calls out a greeting to him and his gaze is redirected to her face where her green eyes flash delightfully.

“Do you walk everywhere?” Bard inquires as when Tauriel is close enough to hear him without him shouting.

“I like taking the bus,” Tauriel says with a shrugs. “I normally don’t go very far from home. The coffee shop is only a few blocks from my house.”

Bard shakes his head as he pulls her into a hug hello. There is something slightly about this hug. There is a tension present, a tightness in each of their bodies.

The pair start to walk to the sandy shore that stretches far in either direction. Tauriel’s sandals make a light, rhythmic ‘flipping’ sound as the walk. “How was your day then after we parted this morning?”

“I have not done much besides sleep. I only woke up an hour or so ago. Working the night shift leaves me with a bizarre schedule.”

Bard nods. “Tell me more about your time in the Guard?”

Tauriel’s eyebrows pull together. “It was boring. Paperwork. It was not all that exciting once I learned all the essential duties that my particular job required.”

“What about friends?”

“I made some, but we haven’t stayed in touch. Most of what we had in common was the Guard, and I’d rather put that time behind me and move forward.”

“Why?”

Tauriel lengthens her stride and looks away, over the lake, but does not answer.

“Sorry. I . . .” Bard starts to say.

“It’s fine. It was fine, but there are plenty of things about it that I would rather forget and not think about,” Tauriel explains.

Bard nods seriously. “Got it.

“I’ve got an amusing story I can tell you about from one of my classes.”

Tauriel’s smile flashes, “I’m listening.”

“I was teaching this class about religious architecture, right? And we were talking about something. I gave the example of how one would behave differently around a grandparent and my students were supposed to think about someone they look up too in any capacity.

“I had them talk amongst themselves about who they had chosen. And one of the students said Martin Freeman. Which started this whole conversation about The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings films. And then they hijacked my class for three weeks. They were studying morphologies – things that affect the meaning a building has, such as politics – and they decided we should watch the ENTIRE Lord of the Rings trilogy so they could do presentations on the ‘sacred’ spaces from the films.

“I had absolutely no control over them. Thank god that their projects were decent.”

Tauriel smiles. “That does sound like a nightmare, but that means for three weeks all you did in that class was watch films. That’s not  _that_  hard.”

Bard snorts, “That wasn’t the hard part. It was reorganizing the schedule and syllabus that was the real nightmare. Paperwork. Paperwork is hell.”

“Hear, hear!” Tauriel laughs. The tension from earlier is still present. Bard can almost  _feel_  how close the warmth of her palm is to his own. His fingers twitch as he resists the urge to reach out and take her hand.

When the reach they reach the beach Bard says, “Hold up!” He bends down and toes off his shoes, and stuffs his socks in them, before cuffing his khakis almost up to his knees. He sighs as he wiggles his toes into the sand, relishing the feeling of the cooler sand beneath the surface between his toes.

Bard looks in Tauriel’s direction. “I’ve been wearing these shoes for  _hours_. I just need to get a pair of tennis shoes and teach in those. These things look nice,” he gestures to the brown leather shoes, “but they don’t allow my feet to  _breath!_  They’re stifling.”

“I see,” Tauriel says, her face twisted up into a mock serious face, “Breathing feet is a life necessity.”

“It is!”

Neither of them notice the dark clouds on the horizon, or the wind that picks up as they continue walking down the beach. Bard is regaling her with another tale of his students, now with his long-sleeve button down hangs from the belt of his pants. His white t-shirt clings to his skin; it is almost see through from sweat.

Tauriel is smiling and Bard is laughing when she pauses, “What’s that?”

“Hmmm?”

“That,” Tauriel says when a distant rumble comes again.

Bard frowns. “We’re not near any highways or train stations.”

Tauriel frowns; the rumble is now accompanied by rushing sound.

Bard turns around looking for the source of the sound. “Rain,” he points.

“Really?” Tauriel steps closer.

Bard grunts his answer, too distracted by how close she is standing to form a real answer for a few moments.

“It hasn’t rained in almost two months.”

“I know. The mayor was talking about enforcing a water conservation rule until we got rain. That would spell utter ruin for my garden.”

Tauriel turns to look at him, “Are you that attached to your garden?”

“Tilda and Sigrid are pretty attached to it, but they’re a bit small to maintain it by themselves. They ‘help’ me though.”

They look out at the dark clouds, the breeze that had been growing stronger is now cool. Bard shivers in his shirt as the wind whips it against his skin. “We should probably find a shelter house before the rain gets here.”

“Are you scared of a tiny bit of a rain?” Tauriel teases.

“No, but . . .” The rest of Bard’s sentence is drowned out by an earsplitting crack of thunder and flash of lightening as the clouds open up and rain starts pouring. The rain obscures everything that is more than a few yards away.

Tauriel half-shrieks in shocks when the rain hits her.

Bard laughs, “Now who’s scared of a tiny bit of rain?”

Tauriel takes a swing at him, but he is already moving away.

“I bet I’ll beat you to the shelter house,” Bard shouts as he moves quickly backwards, his bare feet shuffling the wet sand out of the way.

“Not if I beat you!”

Bard turns and starts running, not going very fast. Waiting to see if she catches up. He turns when he hears a slurry of sand flying in the air, some of the clumps hitting him on the back of his calves. He sees Tauriel sprawled ungracefully in a puddle that is clearly deeper than it looked. One of her flip-flops lays on the sands several feet away.

“Ugh,” Tauriel groans frowning down at the puddle as the water laps against her thighs.

“You’re already wet. It’s not that bad,” Bard laughs as he extends a hand to help her to her feet.

Tauriel takes his hand. Bard does not see the mischievous glint in her eyes until it is too late and she is dragging him downwards into the puddle with her.

When Bard shouts a protest she chastises him, “But you’re already wet.” Her eyes narrow thoughtfully, “Are you ticklish.”

“No!” Bard knows as soon as he said it that he had spoken far to quickly and sharply.

Tauriel smirks and dives at him her handles searching and tickling.

“No! No!” Bard protests, squirming away. He could have easily escaped fully if he had wanted to, but this was nice, even if he actually HATES being tickled by anybody. Tauriel is laughing as she continues her mission, a sound that greatly pleases Bard, a sound that he is loath to do anything to stop.

When Tauriel’s questing fingers find a particularly ticklish spot, Bard makes an undignified noise – similar to a squawk – and grabs her wrists in her hands and pulls them together to stop the tickling as she sits half on his chest. He is panting trying to catch his breath. Tauriel’s giggles slow as she too tries to catch her breath.

The tickling and physical contact has done nothing to lessen the tension between them. If anything the tension increases, almost like electricity. Then everything stops. Time almost feels like it stops. Bard is looking up into Tauriel’s green eyes, eyes that almost feel like their glowing. Her cheeks flush from exertion, her red hair has darkened to auburn under the downpour and it clings to her skin. Suddenly he feels like he is suffocating, but he cannot take a deeper breathe. His skin almost feels like it has gone numb.

Bard loosens his grip on Tauriel’s wrist – she does not attempt to return to tickling him – his fingers trail up her arm, brushing softly. He cups her face in his hand, brushing his thumb gently over her freckle-speckled cheek, freckles that he feels like he could stare at forever just like the stars in the night sky. Bard has the sudden urge to look for constellations on her skin, but is distracted by the flush that rises and deepens on her cheeks with a ferocity. A slight smile tugs on his lips as he meets her eyes before glancing at her lips, slightly parted for breath.

His fingers wind back in her damp hair that is soft between his fingers and slowly pulls her closer. His heart is beating hard against his ribs, his lunges and his chest feel like they are about to explode. To move away would relieve his discomfort, but he cannot find even the slightest desire to move away from Tauriel, even if it means getting out of the pouring rain. He takes a final breathe. Looks into her eyes only to see them looking downwards on his face.

Later neither will be able to recall which of them closed that final space between their lips. All Bard recalls later is softness, warmth, a hint of mint, being surrounded by the smell of the ocean on a perfect day, and the sound of rain. The restriction in his chest is gone; sensations from his whole body are lost as all of his attention focuses in on the kiss and the feeling of her hair between his fingers.

Tauriel pulls back, meeting little resistance. Her entire face burns red now, her freckles standing out.

“Tauriel?” Bard asks softly, loosening his hand from his hair.

Bard’s question receives no answer except for Tauriel catching his lips with her own. This kiss is less than chaste. He can taste her breathe, a heady sensation. His blood rushes to his head, making him dizzy when he feels her breath catch when he bits down softly on her plump lower lip and she presses herself against him.

When they part, Bard laughs softly, breathily, as he brushes her hair back from her face. “We should probably get out of the rain.” His heart his pounding and his chest is heaving as if he just finished rowing a 5k. He takes a deep steadying breath.

Tauriel nods and moves off his chest. She extends her hand to help him up. Bard looks at her hand suspiciously for a moment before taking it and gathering his shoes that he had dropped in the tussle.

Out of habit, Bard glances down at his watch. “Do you need a ride home?” he asks with disappointment tinting his tone. “I need to pick up the kids. And I’m not letting you walk home in this,” he gestures at the dark blanketed sky.

“But I’m all wet,” Tauriel protests.

“So am I. Water never hurt the seats. Have you forgotten that I have three children? Plus, it would be my pleasure to give you a ride home.”

Tauriel nods her ascent, before stepping in close to press a soft kiss to Bard’s cheek. He takes her hand and threads his fingers between hers.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and a movie.  
> Tauriel meets Bardlings.

The street is normal, quiet, like many of the other streets in Dale. It is far from busy highways or major city roads. The asphalt road shimmers in the heat that has been increasing all afternoon. The houses are all connected their bright doors the only signs of stark individuality. Front gardens bright with greenery seem to wilt in the strong sunlight. All the windows are shut against the heat; the loudest sound on the quiet street is the whir of air conditioning units that seem to be working overtime, their condensation dripping.

“Ninety-seven,” Tauriel whispers to herself, willing herself not to forget that number. She does not want to have to dig out her phone for the tenth time in the past hour just to check Bard’s house number. The house to her right is 133. She checks her bag for the container of cookies to assure herself that they are still there before continue down the road.

Bard gave her a ride home on Friday. Tauriel cannot remember what they talked about; she had been more than a little distracted. The only thing that she remembers concretely was him extending an invitation for her to come over to his home for dinner and a movie with his children. “Sigrid’s been asking questions relentlessly,” he told her with an eye roll. “She’s as nosy as my mother, except I leave my mother at her house and I bring Sigrid home with me. I swear she reports everything back to my mom.” His voice, despite slight annoyance, carries good-natured amusement.

Tauriel promised that she would come. She had left the lights in her house off after she locked her front door behind her. She had moved through the dim interior – cooled by the air conditioner during her absence – before landing in her bed and curling around a pillow allowing the soft feeling to envelop her. She lay there for quite a while, her fingers gently brushing against her lips, as she allowed herself to get lost again in the feeling of Bard’s kiss.

A blush creeps up Tauriel’s pale cheeks as she recalls that heady, seductive feeling. A feeling that seems far out of place in the bright, hot daylight of a Sunday afternoon.

The grocery sack with the container of cookies knocks against her knees with each step she takes. She had debated bringing anything at all. A bottle of wine was far too forward, Bard is not her uncle. Wine is always an appropriate gift for Thranduil regardless of the level of relationship; Bard, however, does not seem to be the same. She had eventually settled on no-bake cookies.

Number 97 has a bright blue door with a wide window adorning the very top. Tauriel stops. The house and garden are immaculately maintained. Morning glories reach over the fence, twine among the rails of the wrought iron gate, and spill out on to the sidewalk. Among the neatly trimmed grass and the flowers that grow unrestrained and unfettered are children’s toys. A yellow back lays haphazardly across the sidewalk, while its pink counterpart with training wheels is half-shoved into a bush, along with a soccer ball.

Tauriel opens the gate, careful not to break off any of the twining tendrils of the morning glories. When she shuts it behind her she becomes aware of the sound of children shouting as she walks up to the blue door. She hesitates with her hand raised to knock. She briefly considers turning around. It is not a serious thought; rather it is one that is born out of the habit of habitually cancelling social engagements with lame excuses so that she can stay in. Here, she is already out, she cannot turn around, not that she wants to. Bard had promised that his children would behave. He said that he would talk to Sigrid about asking too many questions before her arrival.

Tauriel takes a deep breath and raps her knuckles on the blue door.

Almost instantly, a child screams, “I’ll get it!” Followed by, “But I want to get it!” The sound of a scuffle ensues punctuated by the sound of a small body being shoved against the inside of the door.

This time when the thought of turning around enters Tauriel’s mind, it is more serious as she is taken aback by the sounds coming from the other side of the door.

The door erupts open like a pop gun and interrupts Tauriel’s thoughts. Bain’s face framed in wild curls and red from exertion appears just as quickly. Tauriel can see another child’s back turning a corner into another room.

Bain slumps, hanging on to the door handle as it is the only thing keeping him upright. He frowns. “Oh, it’s just you,” he sniffs. His suddenly disinterested gaze already wandering.

It is Tauriel’s turn to frown in confusion. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“The postman,” Bain says as if that is the only reasonable answer to such a question.

“There is no post on Sundays . . .,” Tauriel says slowly feeling sure that there is some crucial detail that she is missing.

Bain shrugs, nonchalantly before turning to shout over his shoulder, “DA! That lady’s here!” With that, Bain is gone. He runs off leaving the door and Tauriel standing awkwardly on the doorstep clutching a plastic sack. As he disappears a girl’s voice shouts in a whiney tone, “No! Bain! It’s MY turn!”

Now that Bain is gone, Tauriel sees a small girl messy brown hair. Her rumpled pink shirt says ‘Daddy’s Little Princess’. The little girl’s eyes grow wide as she stares up at Tauriel.

“Hi,” Tauriel waves at the little girl with a smile.

The girl promptly sticks her thumb in her mouth and her hazel eyes grow even larger.

Tauriel shuffles her feet and peers into the hallway. She can see up the stairs, but little else. She wonders if she should continue in to the home even though no one has invited her yet. She knows where nothing is though or where Bard might be. She decides that staying outside is probably the best course of action. She decides that she will knock on the door and reconsider her decision to wait on the stop if no one appears in a few moments. Until then however, Tilda and Tauriel stare at one another.

It is at this moment that Bard appears from one of the rooms off the back end of the hall. Orange powder dusts his shorts in a large handprint and his dark hair is standing up in all direction as if he has been running his hand through it every few minutes. He smiles when he sees Tauriel standing at the door. On his way to the door he stops and leans into the room that Bain and the other girl had disappeared into; the room that arguing is coming from. The arguing stops as soon as Bard half disappears into the room.

“Bain you have to share! Otherwise, I’ll take it away and neither of you will be able to play it. And since when do we leave guests standing at the door?”

Bard stops beside the young girl that is staring at Tauriel; the girl’s thumb is still firmly lodged in her mouth. “Til . . .,” he admonishes gently as he extracts Tilda’s thumb from her mouth.

“Hi,” Bard says as he pulls Tauriel into a brisk hug. “Sorry about the mess . . . and the shouting . . . Today has been,” Bard makes a frustrated noise in his throat as he releases Tauriel and shakes his head.

“I could come back at a different time,” Tauriel offers, “If that would be easier?”

“I won’t hear of it!” Bard drags Tauriel into the hall and shuts the door behind her. “You don’t know how refreshing it can be to talk to another adult,” he says before kissing her cheek.

Tauriel flushes. “I, uh, I brought cookies?” She pulls the container from the grocery sack and hands it to Bard.

Bard raises an eyebrow. While they have been talking in the hall arguing has started up again. “Is it okay if I use your cookies to bribe my children?” He winks. “A little less fighting would be preferable.

Tauriel shrugs. “Of course. Bribe away.”

“You can wait in the kitchen,” Bard gestures down the hall to the room he had emerged from. “I’ll join you in a moment.” With that, he disappears into the room where Bain is arguing with Sigrid. “Hey!”

Tauriel walks in the direction that Bard had gestured. She can hear Tilda’s bare feet patting on the hardwood floor behind her. As soon as she enters the kitchen, she can see what had caused the orange handprint on Bard’s shorts. The orange powder from a package of macaroni and cheese box has been spilled all over the counter and there is evidence of a hasty clean up that resulted in some of the powder being in the pan with the macaroni, but the rest, clearly, had ended up on the floor and on Bard.

After Tauriel throws the bag into the trash, she sits down on what of the barstools that stand next to kitchen’s island. She spins the chair lazily until she faces Tilda again. The little girl’s brown hair stands up a way very similar to her father’s at the moment. Tilda stares at Tauriel, almost unblinkingly, and Tauriel stares back and raises her eyebrows hoping to spark some reaction from the little girl.

Tilda continues to stare until Bard joins them. The orange handprint on his shorts is gone, and his hair is no longer quite so wild in appearance.

“Can I…” Bard starts to ask, but stops when Tilda tugs on the leg of his shorts. Bard bends over to be closer to her, “Yes, darling?”

Tilda tugs on Bards shirt so that he squats down. She pulls him close and shuffles so that she can whisper in his ear. Her whisper, however, is theatrical, “Is she a fairy?”

Tauriel stifles a giggle, but Bard laughs whole-heartedly before asking, “Why?”

Tilda points in Tauriel’s direction. “Green eyes.”

Bard chuckles. “Not that I know of,” he says with a wink.

Tilda narrows her eyes then runs off to join her siblings, who are much quieter now that Bard has presumably bribed them with cookies.

Bard watches her go, shaking his head. He turns to Tauriel. “I’ve been reading the girls fairytales before they go to sleep and a lot of it seems to have gone to Tilda’s head. In the stories, people with green eyes are changelings. People who are only here for a short while and then go back to the Land of Fairy,” Bard says as he moves over to stir the macaroni and orange powder together so they at least resemble something that is remotely edible.

“I might like being thought of that way. Don’t discourage her,” Tauriel teases. “Because maybe I am.”

Bard snorts. “Interesting,” he gazes at her for several long moments, pausing his stirring.

Tauriel looks back and she is unable to contain the smile that spreads across her face.

Bard resumes stirring the orange mixture; he frowns down at the pot, “I hope that macaroni and cheese is okay. Today has just been insane. I _almost_ wish that I hadn’t gotten them that game. They could technically both play at the same time, but somehow that is a completely inconceivable idea to the both of them.” He rolls his eyes dramatically.

“I know how that works. Legs and I fought like crazy growing up. But, we get along splendidly now. And it’s fine. I like it. It’s a good comfort food.”

Bard nods, “That gives me some hope for them in the future.”

Dinner went all right. Bain and Sigrid had tried to eat their bodyweight in cookies, but had fallen short, but they still had very little room left over for dinner.

Tilda already has a movie picked out.

“Not that one again,” Bain whines. “Daaaa, make her pick something else, please!”

“You know the rules,” Bard says as opens a jug of popcorn kernels. “It’s Til’s turn to pick the movie. We can watch anything that you want to watch next week.”

“But she _always_ picks the same movie.”

“And how many times have we seen that one you like . . . the one with the cars,” Bard fumbles, “hmmm?”

“It’s not the same! Mine is good!”

“So is hers,” Bard counters.

Bain growls in frustration and slams his palms on the kitchen counter.

Tauriel _almost_ laughs at Bain’s expression of his anger; he is just small enough that such enormous emotion seems faintly ridiculous. She’s dumping the popcorn that has finished popping into bowls. “Bard?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do the Bardlings want salt?”

Bard almost drops the jug of popcorn kernels that he is putting away.

Tauriel blushes realizing what she had said aloud.

Bard turns to her, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement, “Bardlings?”

“I’m sorry – I didn’t meant to say it aloud – I,” Tauriel stammers trying to apologize.

“No, no, no! It’s fine,” Bard assures her. “I love it.” He turns to Bain who is still scowling at the countertop. “What do you think, Bain? Or should I say Bardling?”

Bain rolls his eyes badly as he whines exasperatedly, “Daaaaaaaaa!”

 

They are gathered in the living room. The girls are sitting on the floor. Bain is curled up in the armchair with his handheld game system, the blue light illuminating his face. Tauriel is sitting on the couch, holding a large bowl of popcorn on her lap. Bard is about to sit down, then asks, “Would you like a drink, water, wine, beer, anything?”

“No, I’m good,” Tauriel smiles.

Bard sits down next to Tauriel, their shoulders touching, and he throws his arm around her shoulders. “Til, you can press play now.”

The movie starts playing and Tauriel leans into Bard slightly enjoying his soft warmness, but still overly aware of her body.

Tilda who, after turning the film on, clambers up on the couch in between Bard and Tauriel quickly disrupts that closeness. The intro music starts playing and Tilda worms her way in deeper between them. She leans against Tauriel. Tilda puts her thumb in her mouth and snuggles in closer to Tauriel.

Tauriel looks over Tilda’s still wild hair and meets Bard’s warm brown eyes. She raises her eyebrows in question. Bard’s only response is a quick smile.

 

Tilda does not release her hold on Tauriel for the duration puff the film. Tauriel's leg had fallen asleep in the first fifteen minutes of the film but she had not had the heart to move the little girl despite the tingles that slowly ascended her leg. By this point, she cannot feel any of her right leg below her hip. Tilda had fallen asleep about halfway through the film. Tauriel could feel the weight difference and could pinpoint the exact moment that the small warm bundle on her lap feel asleep.

Bard turns the light on and ushers Bain and Sigrid up the stairs to their bedrooms to protestations of how they are not _really_ tired through their yawns.

"I'll be up to tuck you in in a few minutes," Bard assures them as he returns to the living room for Tilda. "Here I'll take her."

As soon as the weight is lifted from Tauriel's leg feeling begins to return through painful tingling. She gasps.

"Sorry," Bard mumbles as he adjusts Tilda weight over his shoulder. "She's heavier than she looks. One she finds a position she doesn't really move."

"It's alright," Tauriel promises as she roughly massages her leg to bring feeling back faster.

"I'll be back down in a few minutes I just have to get them into their pajamas and tucked into bed."

"I won't be going anywhere. I'll need a few minutes until I can stand up anyways."

By the time that Tauriel's tired are no longer numb or tingling painfully, she can hear Bard's bare feet descending the stairs. "Everything go well?"

Bard nods. "Tilda woke up when I was getting her into her pajamas. She almost made me read her a story but as soon as she was in her bed she was asleep."

Tauriel stand and brushes popcorn and salt from her jeans. She checks her watch. "I need to get going if I want to make it to my shift in time."

Bard nods. As the walk to the door he says, "I have a proposition for you. A few friends and I go to a pub quiz night on the first Friday of the month. I thought you might be interested in joining us."

"That sounds like it would be fun."

"You've met Bilbo before but there will be a few others present, mostly just colleagues from work."

Tauriel nods, understanding.

“It’s not far from here; do you just want to meet here?”

Tauriel nods again. “Sounds good to me. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Bard is leaning against the doorframe, the light of the hallway illuminating him where the failing evening sun fails to do so. “What? I don’t get a hug?” Bard asks cheekily.

Tauriel looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Why? Do you want one?”

Bard holds out his hand, which Tauriel takes, she is pulled into a willing hug. Tauriel finds herself enveloped in Bard’s arms as he squeezes her tightly. Tauriel savors the warmth of Bard’s back beneath the palms of her hands. Bard presses his nose into Tauriel’s red hair.

They stand like that until Tauriel lifts her head from Bard’s chest to look up at him. This kiss overwhelms Tauriel’s sense. She is surrounded, all of her senses focused, causing everything else to fall away. Bard smiles of pine trees and comfort, he is warm. He tastes of salt and butter, and something else that is intoxicating.

The kiss ends far too soon in Tauriel’s opinion. She presses closer to make it last as long as possible. Bard chuckles softly and presses another quick soft kiss to her lips before releasing her. “I’ll see you in the morning, then?” Bard asks.

Tauriel smiles, “Of course.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pub quiz night! part 1.
> 
> Tauriel meets some of Bard's friends/colleagues and Legolas meets Bard.

“How’s this?” Tauriel asks emerging from her bedroom and straightening the white oxford over her jeans.

“Hmmm…?” Legolas hums from his position on the couch.

“I let you come over so that you could help not so you could eat all my food and get dirty footprints on my wall,” Tauriel snaps and grabs the bag of chips of the table away from Legolas’ reaching hand.

Legolas freezes with his hand outstretched and stares up at her from his position on the couch after dragging his eyes away from the screen of his phone. His long legs are flung over the back of the couch and his head hangs off the edge where the long blonde hair from the top of his undercut sweeps across the hardwood flooring.

“Where are you going again?” Legolas asks cocking his head to the side.

“A pub’s quiz night,” Tauriel says shortly.

“You look like you’re trying too hard,” Legolas states bluntly before turning his attention back to the glowing screen of his phone.

Tauriel groans. “That _isn’t_ helpful, Legs. _What_ makes it look that way?”

“Why are you trying? Why don’t you just dress normally?”

Tauriel wrinkles her nose, “He said we would be meeting up with some of his friends and colleagues…”

“And why does that matter?” Legolas interrupts.

Tauriel frowns. “I’d prefer that they like me. I have a feeling that they will disapprove.”

Legolas makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat.

“I’m a former military grunt who works in a coffee shop with little prospects for anything better for the time being. And he – and probably his friends . . .” Tauriel trails off spreading her hands.

Legolas abruptly rolls over to a sitting position. The furrow between Legolas’ eyebrows is deep and his expression is thunderous. “That shouldn’t matter! You chose to do something else with your life. There is no shame in that. You did something that you believed in just as they did. Just because you feel differently about it now does not mean that it was the wrong decision.”

 “Yes, but . . .” Tauriel starts.

“No, Tau!” Legolas snaps. “Don’t let those stuffy academic types push you around.” He snorts, snatching the chip bag away from her hands. “I haven’t met this Bard fellow, for the moment, that will change soon, but you shouldn’t need to pretend. If I were you,” he leans back against the couch stretching his long legs out in front of him. “I’d wear a Guard shirt,” he says before popping a chip into his mouth.

“Fine.” Tauriel stalks into her room.

“What did you mean by not having met Bard yet?” Tauriel shouts as she quickly changes her shirt.

“I’m driving you.”

Tauriel sticks her head around the corner to fix Legolas with a flat glare, holding a pair of ragged jeans in her hands. “What.”

"You heard me.”

“You’re not taking me,” Tauriel says shortly disappearing back into her room to change her jeans.

“That’s what you think,” Legolas grumbles.

“I heard that!” Tauriel says emerging from her room, doing up her belt. “And that’s what I know. You’re not taking me. This is your dad’s way of working his way into this.”

“Can you blame him?” Legolas queries raising his eyebrow. “You never told about that asshat Bolg, but he’s not stupid. You said three months before he could meet Bard, but you said nothing about me reporting back to him.”

Tauriel scowls. “That sounds like his sort of argument.”

“It is,” Legolas raises both eyebrows.

“Fine, but no more than five minutes. You push me around after telling me not to let other people do the same?”

“Yes,” Legolas smiles disarmingly, “but, I’m your cousin. It’s different.”

Tauriel snorts. “Let’s go,” she says kicking his booted foot.

The drive over to Bard’s house takes about half the time that it would take the bus, but it is silent drive. Legolas focuses on the road and Tauriel stares out the window with her arms crossed. “That one,” Tauriel points to the house with its bright blue door and its neatly trimmed lawn. Bard is leaning against the brick fence that surrounds his front yard with a book folded back in his hands that he is engrossed in. He holds the book only inches from his nose to read in the dim evening light. Bard does not even look up when the Jeep pulls up directly in front of him.

“That him?” Legolas asks nodding towards Bard who is brushing his dark hair back from his face.

“Yes. You’ve seen him, now you can go.” Tauriel says, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“I’m going to use those five minutes you said that I have with him,” Legolas says turning off the car. “Plus ada isn’t going to pay for a trip to Ered Nimrais if all I can tell him is about that the guy has dark hair.”

“Really?” Tauriel asks in exasperation. “Bribery?”

Legolas smirks, “Yup.”

Tauriel groans. “Just don’t do the whole stupid protective alpha male bullshit.”

“Do I need to do that?”

Tauriel rolls her eyes, climbs out of the car, and slams the door. Her door shutting quickly followed by Legolas’ door catches Bard’s attention. He looks up and smiles. “Tauriel,” he says with a broad smile. He closes the ragged paperback and stuffs it in the back pocket of his jeans.

“What is it?” Tauriel asks gesturing to the book.

“One of those angst-filled existentialist novels from Rhûn,” Bard says. “One of my favorites.” His eyes flick to Legolas, “And who’s this?”

Before Tauriel can say anything, Legolas is introducing himself.

“I’m Legolas, Tauriel’s cousin,” Legolas says reaching out his hand to shake Bard’s hand.

“Bard.” Bard shifts away from the wall and takes Legolas’ preferred hand. “Tauriel’s told me about you.”

Legolas snorts. “Probably only the bad stuff.”

“Ehh . . .” Bard tilts his head in mock thoughtfulness, “That’s pretty much true.”

Legolas laughs, “There’s plenty of stories about the bad stuff to tell.” He steps back and stuffs his hands into his back pockets. “Tau told me that she doesn’t want me to do any stupid, alpha male, protective bullshit, but . . .” Legolas pauses and looks at Tauriel’s annoyed expression.

“Legs . . .”

Before Tauriel can continue Legolas continues speaking, “But, she’s like my sister. And I never got to threaten the other guys, sadly. It’s my job to keep her safe and if you hinder that goal I’ll have to tell my father.”

“Legolas,” Tauriel says warningly, but she is interrupted again.

Bard nods his head, “Fair enough.”

Tauriel scowls.

Legolas flashes a smile. “Good man,” he says clapping Bard on the shoulder. Turning to Tauriel, he ruffles her hair before climbing back into his jeep.

“Ass,” Tauriel mumbles under her breath as Legolas pulls away.

“What?” Bard asks.

“I didn’t want him to drive me. He did. I told him not be a macho asshat. I am _more_ than capable to taking care of myself. And he did,” Tauriel grumbles as she blindly fixes her hair.

Bard chuckles, “Here. Let me.” He knocks her hands out of the way and fixes it for her. “I’m sure that you can take care of yourself. But, he’s doing what I would do for a sister if I had one. I can tell you a lot more than that whenever Sigrid and Tilda start dating, which won’t be until they’re thirty.”

“Men,” Tauriel says shaking her head. “What makes it worse is that my uncle bribed him, by saying that he would fund a bullshit hiking trip to the some of the southern mountains.”

“I sympathize with your uncle,” Bard teases with a cheeky grin. “If I were him, you’d probably be locked up in a tower and I’d be the only one with a key.”

Tauriel groans theatrically and turns away from Bard, while on the inside she is flattered by Bard’s words, but still annoyed at her uncle. “Where is this place?” She says, turning the topic away from overprotective brothers, fathers, and uncles.

“Just a few blocks around the corner,” Bard says gesturing away down the street before he starts walking without waiting for Tauriel to catch up with him.

Tauriel takes a few large steps until she is walking at Bard’s side. Their hands brush against one another with almost each step. “Where are the Bardlings?”

Bard smiles at the term. “My mother is watching them. They think it’s a treat for them to get to spend the night with grandma, who spoils them rotten. I think she thinks it’s a treat for her as well, when in reality it’s a night for me to forget how to walk straight.”

Tauriel’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm and Bard laughs when he catches sight of her face.

“I’m joking,” Bard quickly qualifies, “kinda. We drink – it is a quiz night after all – but I don’t think I’ve forgotten how to walk in almost a decade.”

Tauriel nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten how to walk.”

“To be quite honest, I don’t really recommend it. Especially if you have any sort of life that happens by a schedule. I’d be royally screwed if I did anything like that now, the kids would probably eat me alive. They’d be completely unmanageable and I’d be crying in a ball on the floor.”

“Really?” Tauriel asks.

Bard nots curtly, “Most definitely. I’d be an absolute mess. I was when I was in college and I highly doubt anything has changed. And if it has it has changed for the worse not for the better.”

Before their conversation can continue, someone comes out of nowhere and accosts Bard, knocking him into the building that they are walking next to. “Bard!”

“What they hell do you think you’re doing?” Bard shoves the shorter, dark-haired man away.

The attacker adjusts his hat. “You’ve been avoiding me. We haven’t gotten drinks after work in quite some time. I felt that you deserved that.”

Bard frowns. “You know I’ve got kids, right?”

“Never stopped you from coming out before. I think your reason is something else.” With that, he turns to Tauriel, his brown eyes flashing over a tanned face and a scruffy soul patch. He looks back at Bard, “Is she in the reason?” he asks, jerking his head in Tauriel’s direction.

“I have children, Bofur. School started up for them again. I need to be home on weeknights, I can’t be spending my evening reliving your college days.”

Bofur shakes his head. He turns back to Tauriel, “He’s told me about you, darlin’. I don’t blame him for not wanting to hang out with people from work. I’d certainly spend more nights at home if my lady looked like you,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Tauriel shifts away from Bofur and closer to Bard. She watches Bofur warily the entire time.

Bard snorts seeing Tauriel’s cautiousness. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s not as much of a creep as he pretends to be. He has a lovely wife at home that he adores.”

Bofur raises his eyebrows and nods his head placing his hand on his chest, “It’s true. I’m sorry if I scared you. I really just like a good laugh.”

Tauriel narrows her eyes, but nods. “Okay.”

“Dwalin and Bilbo are already inside with a table. Dwalin said that Thorin is running late. He said something about something stupid,” Bofur finishes with a shrug. “But they’ve started passing out answer sheets and the sheets for team signups.” He looks from Bard to Tauriel and back again before continuing, his voice carrying a whining tone, “Please tell me that you’re still going to be on our team rather than competing against us.”

“Of course not,” Bard laughs. “You lot are so hopeless that you’d always get the consolation prize for not scoring any points.”

“I’d be alright with that. A free pint sounds good to me.” With that Bofur wraps his arm around Bard’s shoulders and half leads, half drags Bard with him through the pub’s doors.

Bard grabs Tauriel’s to include her in this impromptu direction that they are receiving. He squeezes her hand in encouragement along with giving her a gentle smile. He looks like he would have said something, but his voice would have been lost in Bofur’s incessant chattering.

Bofur drags them over to a table in the corner that already a very large, bald man and a much smaller man with grey hair. “Look who I found loitering outside,” Bofur says as they approach the table. He manages to inject the short sentence with suggestive content.

The two men look over and Tauriel can see that the large man seems to have replaced hair with tattoos, and has biceps the size of her head. Tauriel almost breathes a sigh of relief when she recognizes Bilbo. She is reassured that these characters cannot be that rough if the quiet spoken high school English teacher is present. He also acts as another familiar face.

Bofur starts introducing people, but Bard interrupts. “I can do that myself. Knowing you, you’ll tell us the most embarrassing things you know about everyone here, myself included,” Bard says nudging Bofur towards an empty chair.

Bofur laughs loudly. “Too true, too true. I’d have to share the stories I know about you though. The lady needs to know what she’s getting into.” Bofur winks outrageously at Tauriel.

“Hey! I thought we had agreed that those stories would remain under wraps!”

“Special occasion.”

Bard rolls his eyes. “At least save them for after the drinks, maybe they’ll be less memorable then.”

“Or more memorable,” Bofur interjects.

Bard narrows his eyes in Bofur’s direction before changing the subject. “You’ve already met Bilbo. That letch,” he gestures in Bofur’s direction who only laughs in response, “is Bofur. We’ve known each other since college and now we teach together. He’s in ceramics. He’d probably be head of the department if he could keep his less appropriate comments to himself.”

“Dwalin,” Bard gestures to the muscular bald man, “IS head of the metals and jewelry department. His – cousin is it? – Thorin will be joining us later.” Then Bard starts to introduce Tauriel to the group only to be interrupted by Dwalin, whose voice is surprisingly quiet for his size.

“We know who she is.” Dwalin turns to Tauriel and offers his hand; a massive paw that swallows Tauriel’s when she takes it. “He hasn’t shut up about you in weeks. This week he was so bad that I had to chase him from my studio with a hammer.”

Dwalin releases Tauriel’s hand. “Now sit your asses down so we can order some drinks dammit.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pub Quiz Night, pt. 2!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while avoiding doing reading/writing for my courses. It is also a much longer than normal chapter. Part 3 is really more of the day after, but . . . that’d be saying too much at the beginning of the chapter.

Bard sits down next to Tauriel, pulling his chair close to her.

"Same as always?" Dwalin asks. "The two buckets to start with?"

"Is a light beer okay with you?" Bard asks Tauriel, leaning his head close to hers.

Tauriel does not answer instantly. She does not want to be inconvenient or bother anyone. "Yeah, it's fine." But, she hesitates too long before replying.

Bard gives her an askance look, narrowing one eye slightly. "Are you sure? Whatever you want won't be a problem."

Tauriel looks away; a little embarrassed at being caught. "Hard cider?"

"Hey, hold up! Baldie!" Bard shouts to catch Dwalin's attention as he disappears into the crowd in the direction of the bar. When Dwalin stops and looks over his shoulder to see what Bard wants, Bard continues. "Get one of that . . . uh . . . Fangorn Cider."

Dwalin nods his understanding and turns. He does not actually disappear into the crowd. His size prevents him from him from completely blending into the mass of people.

One of the employees is walking around handing out sheets of paper with lines and numbers on them. Bofur snatches it and a short stub of a pencil. "Team name?"

"The same as always," Bilbo says, checking his phone.

"But it's not the same team. This is a different team. This team has estrogen, so we need a new name," Bofur says while rapidly tapping the pencil stub on the scarred hard wood table.

"Why should that make a different," Tauriel inquires, frowning.

"Well, you see," Bofur drawls. "Boys and girls are biologically different. Our bones are different. Our bits dangle and yours are aesthetically pleasing. Which means that this team's no longer quite so much of a sausage fest. We have a feminizing, civilizing influence among us now."

Tauriel laughs, "I'm not sure how much of a 'feminizing' influence I will be. As for civilizing, I'm sure Bilbo already does well enough at that."

"I could use a bit of help though," Bilbo says. "As you can see by him," he gestures of Bofur. "My influence is not as civilizing as it could be."

"Just use the usual name, Bo," Bard says with a short laugh.

"Fine," Bofur grumbles as he scribbles on the piece of paper. "Just tryin' to have a bit 'o fun."

Once Bofur finishes writing, he slaps the pencil down on the table. "So, Tauriel, what is it that you do?"

Tauriel shifts uncomfortably. "I'm working until I decided what I want to do."

Bard jumps when a catchy song from a children show starts playing from his phone. He has the dignity to look a little ashamed at the ringtone. "Tilda picked it out," he says by way of an explanation. He glances down at the screen, "I need to take this. It's my mother. I'll be back in a few." Bard pushes back his chair and weaves through the crowd and out of sight.

"What you want to do?" Bofur asks raising an eyebrow.

"My uncle keeps pushing me to take some courses, but I don't know what I'd study. So, I'm not."

"Ceramics are quite fun." Bofur says with a grin.

"Stop trying to convert the lass to working with mud," Dwalin rumbles when he returns to the table, setting two ice buckets fill with bottles on the tables. "Not everyone perpetually wants dirty under their fingernails. You always leave dust in my office chairs after you've been there."

Bofur snorts and makes a face. "I was just trying to help."

"Well stop helping and start drinking," Dwalin says pushing a bottle in Bofur's direction. Tauriel pulls one of the bottles of cider out of the bucket and pops it open before taking a drink.

A heavy bag is dropped on the table; it rattles everything on the table. "The fucking traffic," a voice growls. "I'm sorry that I'm late Dwalin, but the fucking traffic between here and the university . . ." he trails off shaking his head.

"They haven't even started with the question yet. You're not late, Thor," Dwalin says, shoving a drink into the newcomer's hand.

The tall man with his dark hair and beard cropped short drops heavily onto the bench, still grumbling. He tips his drink back, but pauses and scowls when he sees Tauriel. "Who the hell are you," he growls.

"Cool it, Thorin," Dwalin rumbles. "Bard brought her."

"Why wasn't I told," Thorin growls turning to Dwalin.

"Don't be a dick." Dwalin elbows Thorin in the ribs.

"He told us, and I forgot to tell you. It's no big deal," Dwalin says taking a long pull from his own bottle. "Tauriel, this is my cousin Thorin Durinson."

Tauriel starts at the name. She looks at Thorin speculatively. Durinson was Fíli and Kíli's mother's last name. Dís had gone back to using her maiden name after she had divorced Fili and Kíli's father. Tauriel stores the information away to later ask Fíli and Kíli if they had an uncle or something and if he was always an ass.

Thorin snorts. "A Guard?" he says derisively.

"Former," Tauriel shoots back.

"Pah," Thorin grumbles. "That's nothing."

Tauriel bristles. "What do you mean by that?"

"Thor," Dwalin says warningly.

"I doubt you ever saw action in the Guard. I was in the Core, where I was stationed in Moria."

"I saw and did plenty," Tauriel says angrily shooting to her feet.

"Thorin," Bilbo says sharply while grabbing hold of Tauriel's elbow to pull her back into her seat. "Stop."

Thorin grumbles under his breath, but is silent. Tauriel sits back down.

"So . . ." Bofur says drawing out the word, changing the subject. "Tauriel, are you taking care of our friend?"

"Bofur!" Bilbo says in protest, "That is not a nice question to ask."

At the same time Thorin swears, "Good god, Bo, I don't want to hear about Bard's sex life."

Tauriel hedges around the question, "We've only known each other for a few weeks." She does not know what answer that Bofur is expecting or wants. She picks at a thread from her jeans uncomfortably.

"That's not an answer," Dwalin says, his eyebrows pulling together.

Bofur smirks, "But it's not a no."

It is at this moment that Bard. He circles around the table to sit down next to Tauriel and throws his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

Tauriel quickly ducks out from under Bard's arm and darts for the ladies room, ignoring Bard's question of where she was going. When she shuts a stall door, she leans back against it, he head thudding against the metal door. "What am I doing here?" she whispers to herself. "Why am I here? I should be home curled up in my armchair reading a book in the candle light." She sighs heavily.

Tauriel's phone vibrates in her pocket and she digs it out. It is a text from Bard.

_~ Are you okay? – BB ~_

Before Tauriel can reply another text comes through.

_~ Bilbo just told me what Bofur and Thorin said. Thorin's a dick. I can't really say much_ _more about him. But I can apologize for Bofur. He thinks that he's funny even though EVERYONE has told him that he's not particularly funny. – BB ~_

Another text.

_~ We can leave if you want. – BB ~_

Tauriel quickly taps out a reply.

_~ I'm fine. I just need a moment. –_ τ ~

Bard's reply comes before Tauriel can put her phone back in her pocket.

_~ Alright. – BB ~_

When Tauriel returns to the table Bofur is telling a story, that everyone seems to find hilarious. Tauriel sits down on the bench next to Bard. He reaches for Tauriel's hand and squeezes it gently. Tauriel squeezes his hand in return. Tauriel leans against Bard, only half-listening to the end of Bofur's story, while she finishes her cider and starts on a second bottle.

"The cop at least waited for me to put my pants on before making me get out of the car. Then he searched it. The best part was when he asked her if she lived in her car because she was staying at my place the weekend and she had a sleeping bag and a backpack full of clothes in her trunk," Bofur chuckles.

"Is this thing on," a voice comes over the microphone making everyone jump and turn to look towards the stage where a young man stands behind the microphone stand.

"We're going to get started now. You all know how this thing works, I haven't seen any new teams out here so I won't bore you all with the rules. We'll get right to that first question. What are the three peaks of Moria?"

"I know this one," Thorin says loudly. "Celebdil, Caradhras, and . . . Fuck!" Thorin swears as he writes down the two that he knows.

Dwalin snorts. "I thought you knew this one. Mr. I-was-stationed-in-Moria."

"Shut up!" Thorin snaps.

"I have no idea what it could be," Bilbo says. Bofur and Bard shakes their heads in agreement.

"It's Fanuidhol," Tauriel says quietly as she finishes her second cider.

Thorin scowls.

"Is she right?" Bofur asks leaning forward to look at the team's paper.

"Yes," Thorin grunts grudgingly.

The voice over the microphone again, "Second question: How long does it take to sail across the Western Sea?"

Everyone at the table looks at Bard, who raises his eyebrows at them. "Fuck if I know," he says taking a pull from his own drink.

Tauriel cracks open a third cider. The pub buzzes with hushed voices all discussing the question. The air is thick with tension.

"Anyone have a guess?" Bilbo asks, pulling the paper to himself and scrawling the question down. "I know it takes forever, but I can't remember how long exactly."

"Just put down three months," Dwalin says. "That's forever, but not completely unreasonable."

Bilbo writes down their answer and erases the notes for what the question was.

"Third question: What year did Mirkwood and Greenwood the Great split into two separate regions?"

"You should know this one," Bilbo says to Dwalin. "You study their metalwork."

Dwalin groans theatrically, "I should, but . . ." he spreads his hands in exasperation. "Bo?"

"Nope," Bofur says, popping the 'p'. "Bard's the historian."

"I don't study that area. I study stuff from the east and the south."

"Don't you still have to teach those survey classes?"

Bard takes a drink, "Yeah, but the only stuff from Greenwood that I cover is old, from before that separation. The separation falls into modern history, and I don't pay much attention to modern art."

"Pity," Dwalin says shaking his head. "Guess we don't get that one either."

"Fourth Age, 794," Tauriel says as she peels the label.

Bard stares at her questioningly.

"I liked history class. And I had lots of free time while I was in the Guard to read," Tauriel says with a shrugs as she works on the last of the third cider.

"Are you sure?" Bofur asks.

"Absolutely," Tauriel says, her eyebrows narrowing creating a furrow. The alcohol is starting to go to her head. Her face feels a bit numb and she feels warm and comfortable. Bard is particularly comfortable and she is very aware of the press of his body against her."

"The last question of this section: What's the age of the world's oldest man?"

Bofur snorts. "That's got to be Gandalf."

Bard snorts and chokes on his cider with laughter. Everyone else at the table is laughing.

"Who's Gandalf?" Tauriel asks.

"Ah . . . He's this professor that has been around the campus for as long as anyone can remember. We have no idea what he teaches or how old he is, but he's been around forever," Bard explains.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the evening passes in a blur to Tauriel after she finishes her fourth bottle. It passes and in a blur of laughter, drink, and arguing over the answers to the questions. Towards the end of the night, Tauriel can feel herself sobering back up.

"We'll see you later," Dwalin says with a wave, dragging Thorin with him. Dwalin half supports his cousin as they walk down the street together. None of the them had driven there. They all lived close enough to walk home.

Bilbo stops in front of Bard, swaying a bit. "Tuesday, the boys' play day?"

Bard nods, "I remember."

Bilbo leaves with a wave.

Bofur had to leave much earlier. His wife had called him and he had taken his leave with a salacious grin.

Bard and Tauriel walk back to Bard's house. He has his arm over her shoulders and she slides her hand in the back pocket of his jeans. Together they unsteadily make their way back.

They pause at the bus stop. "I'm afraid the buses have stopped running," Bard says peering blearily at the schedule on the side of the bus stop.

Tauriel pulls her phone out, fumbling slightly, and almost dropping it. "I could call Leggles to pick me up, but he's probably asleep," she says looking at the time.

"Nonsense. I have a house that's only a few steps away. You can stay."

Tauriel looks up at Bard sharply, questioning whether there way anything beyond a friendly offer on his face, but the darkness obscures his features.

"Come," Bard says taking her hand. "We'll have to be quiet though. It's almost impossible to get Sig back to bed if she gets up."

As Bard fumbles with his key and lock he says, "Wait in the hall. It might be best if you and my mother don't meet under these circumstances, she can be a bit . . .," Bard pauses and looks over at Tauriel, "tricky."

"Hallway. Got it," Tauriel affirms, nodding her head.

Bard pushes open the door and the two of them make it inside, Bard turning the deadbolt when he shuts the door. Quiet sounds from a television echo through the otherwise silent halls.

"Bard?" A voice comes from the living room. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, Ma," Bard moves toward the living room that is lit by the glow of the television. The hallway is filled with light that spills out of the living room when the main light is turned on. Bard winces back shielding his eyes for a moment.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"It was good. We didn't lose by such a large margin this time," Bard pauses before changing the subject. "How were the kids?"

"Good, the girls were little angels. Bain was a different story. He wanted to play his video game thing in bed."

"Ma," a whining tone enters Bard's tone, telling Tauriel that what was coming next was something that Bard and his mother had discussed many times. "He's allowed to play for thirty minutes after he goes to bed. He has to then put it outside his door. Something that he has never failed to do."

"It's not healthy," Bard's mother grumbles, "you were allowed to read, but that made you use your imagination or learn things. Do you even know what games he's playing? The one I saw was gruesome. He is only a little boy after all."

Bard groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, wanting to be anywhere but here right now. He hates having this conversation with his mother. "I know what games he plays, mother. I buy them for him. I am his father."

"Yes, but the children need a stable home. I still think they should come live with me and your father for a while."

Tauriel was shifting closer, her curiosity driving her closer to the words that she had to strain to hear when she was standing by the doorway. She kept one hand on the wall to steady herself and to guide her.

"We've been over this . . .," Bard starts to say, but is interrupted by Tauriel tripping over and knocking over the umbrella stand.

"Who is that?" Bard's mother asks, a note of alarm in her voice.

Bard exhales heavily through his nose, holding out his hand to Tauriel as an invitation.

Tauriel sheepishly leaves where she was standing in the dark of the hallway and enters the light and Bard's mother's scrutinizing gaze.

"Ma, this is Tauriel, my date. Tauriel this is my mother, Elda."

Elda raises her eyebrows and looks over Tauriel, head to toe; dirty sneakers, her jeans and Guard shirt still visible damp with alcohol.

Tauriel bristles uncomfortable, and instantly feels far more sober than she did a few minutes ago.

"Why is she here?" Elda demands turning to Bard. She gives Tauriel another once over before adding in an appalled voice. "She's not one of your students, is she?"

Bard scowls. "No. She's not. She lives a ways from here and the buses aren't running at this hour. And none of us are in a state to drive."

Elda looks like she does not quite believe Bard. "I can drive her home."

Bard fights the urge to roll his eyes. "She lives in the opposite direction of where you need to be going. Plus, I have a pullout sofa bed for this exact reason."

Tauriel fights the curl of disappointment that starts in the pit of her stomach.

It is Elda's turn to frown, this time more disapprovingly. "I'll stay then."

"Why?" Bard snaps, stiffening.

"You've been drinking; as has your . . . friend . . . There will need to be a responsible adult around for the children in case something happens."

"And what exactly do you think is going to happen, Ma? That Tauriel is going to turn into an axe murderer? I can take care of my kids. They're perfectly safe with me. They're safe with Tau."

Elda and Bard stare at each other. Tauriel shifts uncomfortable.

"You can leave now," Bard says shortly, not looking away from Elda.

"Fine." Elda grabs up her jacket, moving much louder than was strictly necessary. "I'm just concerned about my grandchildren."

Bard moves from Tauriel's side to follow his mother to the door and lock it behind her. "Your grandchildren are safe. They've made it this far in my hands, I doubt that that will change any time soon." He shuts the door before Elda can say anything else.

Bard turns around and leans back against the door. He shuts his head and he leans his head back. He sighs before opening his eyes and gazing at Tauriel, who has moved back into the hallway to watch him. He pushes off from the door, moves towards her, and pulls her into a hug. She stiffens, before relaxing into the hug. "I'm sorry about my mother, she is a bit . . .," he pauses to find a polite word, "protective of the Bardlings."

Tauriel wraps arms around Bard's waist and presses her face into his neck. The warm fuzzy feeling from the alcohol slowly creeps back up. The alcohol and the musky, manly smell of Bard is a heady mixture. The alcohol has made her bold; she presses a kiss to where Bard neck and shoulder meet.

Bard jumps at the unexpected contact, but then presses his face into her hair. "Tauriel," he sighs.

Tauriel lifts her head to meet Bard's eyes. "Yes?"

Bard answers her with a kiss that starts out gentle and becomes harder and more urgent at it goes. Bard presses her back a few steps until she is backed up against the wall. A spark runs through her, making her gasp and grip at Bard's shirt, as he uses his greater house to pin her to the wall. Bard's hand run down her sides and grip her by her hips. His thumbs pushing up her shirt just far enough to touch her skin, sending electric through Tauriel. She pulls him closer.

Both are breathing heavy when they part from the kiss. Tauriel stares at Bard in the half-light of the hallway.

Bard cups her face with both hands. He traces his thumb over her cheek and down to her lips, causing her breath to catch. "You're gorgeous," he breaths, pressing a soft kiss to her nose. "But sleep."

Tauriel simply nodes, she cannot figure out how to form words at the moment.

Bard smiles and takes her hand leading her down the hall to the master bedroom. The door is under the stairs, and leads into a decently sized room, decorated in shades of brown and grey. A king-sized bed takes up much of the space. The window is open, letting the cool night breeze in. Tauriel shivers, and for a moment thinks about how nice it will be to be wrapped up in the sheets and comforter, with Bard's warm body next to her.

Bard releases her hand and moves over to his dresser, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks and throws the shirt into the laundry hamper. Tauriel swallows forcefully as she watches him. Bard toes off his shoes and drops his jeans in one smooth motion revealing his tight white boxer briefs. Tauriel blushes at his casual movements, but she cannot help but stare. Her heart rate accelerates as she watches the long lines of his body as he pulls the pants off his legs, he almost falls over in the process, except he catches himself on the edge of the dresser. He opens a drawer, pulls out a t-shirt, and pulls it over his head.

Bard pauses when he turns around seeing Tauriel's face. "I can sleep out on the couch if that would make you more comfortable," he says softly, misreading the look on her face.

"No!" Tauriel says too quickly. She swallows. "No," she repeats more quietly, "this is fine."

The corner of Bard's mouth tugs upwards in a self-satisfied smile.

"Would you like something to sleep in?"

"I'm fine," Tauriel quickly assures him.

"Are you sure? Bofur did spill that drink on you. Are you sure you want to sleep in your clothes?"

Tauriel looks down and tugs on her shirt for a moment. She frowns down at it for a moment in slight confusion. "I suppose that would be good."

Bard pulls a few things out of his dresser and walks over to her pressing the clothes into her hands. "The bathroom's right there," he points to a door next to the bed. "If you'd like privacy to change."

Tauriel feels a blush rising at the teasing look in Bard's eyes. "Thanks," she mumbles, taking the clothes and going to bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

She sets the clothes down on the bathroom counter and leans forward on her hands, the edges of the counter digging into her palms. She looks up at herself, staring into her own wide green eyes. She turns the water on and, cupping her hands, fills them with water to splash on her face. She shakes her head and then runs her hands through her hair. She quickly pulls her shirt and jeans off, neatly folding them in a pile on the counter. After a moment of thought she pulls her sports bra over her head, only she gets stuck half-way and fall over into the door.

"Are you okay?" Bard asks from the other side of the door, concern tinting his voice.

"Yeah," Tauriel says quickly, before steading herself to pull the bra the rest of the way off. "I just tripped."

A quiet chuckle is all that answers.

Tauriel quickly tucks her bra into her t-shirt to hide it. She looks at the clothes that Bard gave her; a t-shirt and a pair of flannel boxers. She pulls the shorts on quickly, but pauses to inhale the clean, familiar scent on the t-shirt before pulling it over her head, relishing the feeling of the soft fabric against her skin.

When she opens the door the main room is dark except for a small nightlight that is on the opposite wall from the bed. Clearly for his kids if they came into the room at night. She turns the bathroom light off and has to wait a few moments, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She shivers in the cool breeze.

Bard is already in the bed. The comforter pulled up to his chin, his head is turned away, but his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. Asleep.

Tauriel pull the blanket and sheets aside and slowly, carefully climbed into the large bed, being careful not to disturb Bard's sleep. She tucks her arms under her head, adjusting the pillow pulling the blanket around her. She closes her eyes to block out the fact that the world is still spinning slightly; closing her eyes only makes it worse.

"Come here."

Tauriel starts and turns her head. She raises herself up on an elbow to look over at Bard. His eyes are open and he looks at her expectantly.

"Here," Bard repeats, opening his arms and tapping his chest with a finger.

Tauriel stars for a moment, hesitating before she scoots tentatively closer. She gently lays her head on his chest; half because she's half-convinced that he will disappear, and half because her head is still spinning, from the alcohol and everything else.

Bard wraps and arm around her, threading his fingers into her hair and massaging gently, his other pulling her close and sliding her shirt up so he can press the palm of his hand to the bare skin of her lower back.

Tauriel hums happily and nuzzles into Bard's neck. Her legs winding with his to make the position more comfortable.

"Sleep," Bard murmurs quietly, stroking her hair.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we start getting a bit more plot. Maybe a bit of that suspense that the story is tagged as.

Everything is warm and soft when Tauriel first starts the climb out of sleep. There is a pleasant, quiet hum of a fan. She stretches, her muscles protesting pleasantly. Her stretching disturbs Bard. He rolls away. Tauriel pauses and gazes at the broad expanse of his back, gently rising and falling under his green t-shirt. She rolls over to follow him and press a kiss to his neck, just above where his shirt ends. She wants to curl even closer and fall asleep again. She does not remember waking last night after she had fallen asleep, an unexpected but pleasant side effect of either the alcohol (which she doubts) or sharing a bed with someone again, which is probable. The weight of another body beside her is comforting in a way that she had not expected.

But she has to pee. She shuffles slowly to the edge of the bed, trying to be careful not disturb Bard. When she returns, she look around the room. The late morning sunlight filters through green curtains, filling the room with a comforting glow. Light that falls on Bard. She smiles; watching his hair be lightly tousled by the fan's breeze. She smiles and bounces back in to the bed. She peeks over Bard's shoulder, "Are you awake?"

Bard rumbles something under his breath. A something that sounds suspiciously like a 'no'.

"Really?" Tauriel presses.

There is no response. Bard shifts suddenly rolling over, grabbing Tauriel around the waist and rolling her with him. Tauriel squeaks indignantly. "Really," Bard says grinning down at Tauriel as he pins her down beneath him.

"So, just to be clear, you're not awake?" Tauriel asks, raising a single eyebrow.

"Nope."

Tauriel runs her hands up Bard's sides, rumpling his t-shirt. "Interesting," she says softly, meeting his gaze.

"Very interesting." Bard closes the inches between their lips.

The kiss quickly deepens. Bard's fingers are in her hair; twining her fiery red hair through his fingers. Tauriel hums in to the kiss. She splays her hands across his lower back. He presses her into the mattress, rocking his hips slightly. Tauriel hooks her ankles around Bard's; holding him close. She pushes his t-shirt up to touch his skin. The sound that Bard makes when Tauriel's finger's come in contact with his bare skin makes electricity burn through her skin.

"Da?" is accompanied by a soft knock on the door.

Bard moves quickly, rolling off Tauriel and pulling the blanket up. Tauriel moves just as quickly pulling the blanket over her head; hiding with her back to the door.

Tauriel can hear the door open from her hiding spot. She watches Bard's face; his cheeks are flushed, and his hair is disheveled.

"Da?" Sigrid walks into the room. Her hair is already neatly brushed, but she is still wearing the over-sized t-shirt that she had worn to bed the night before.

"Yes, Sig?" Bard asks, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Bain is trying to make pancakes. He can't. He's going to burn the kitchen down," Sigrid says seriously.

"Why do you think he's going to burn the kitchen down?"

"Because he's stupid," Sigrid answers, just as serious as before.

Bard chuckles. "All right, all right, I'll be down in a few minutes." He pauses, "Why don't you go keep an eye on Bain just to make sure that nothing catches on fire until I get down there.

"Okay."

Tauriel listens to Sigrid's padding footsteps disappear.

"Shut the door, please, Sig!" Bard calls after his daughter before she disappears completely.

The door is shut, but it is done harder than was strictly necessary. Bard quickly rolls out of bed and pulls on pants and a clean t-shirt.

"Bain has set stuff in the kitchen on fire before," Bard says by way of explanation.

"Oh." Tauriel runs her fingers through her hair, trying to make sure that it looks somewhat presentable and not entirely like a creature of the deep. She smooths the blankets, but does not get out of the bed.

Bard moves to the door, "Aren't you coming?"

Tauriel freezes and stares. "Uhhh . . ."

"Come one. You need breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day," Bard says, his dad-side showing through.

"But . . ." Tauriel begins to protest.

"I can go down and tell them not to be weird if you'd like. But, I should warn you, that guarantees nothing."

"I suppose I can come down," Tauriel says slowly. She moves just as slowly. She pauses to check her clothes. They are pajamas, but she cannot help but feel a little awkward going downstairs and being seen in Bard's clothes.

Bard smiles softly. He reaches out and strokes her arm. "It'll be fine. I promise. You've met them before. Plus, they're a bit too young to draw any . . . dirty . . . conclusions. At most they'll ask questions, but you can ignore that, they're always asking questions. If every single one of their questions got answered I would never sleep or go to work."

Downstairs in the kitchen Bain is so covered in pancake batter that it is impossible to tell what his pajamas are; Sigrid is now dressed and sitting at the island scowling at her brother; Tilda is wearing a crown along with her pink princess nightgown. Tilda is happily oblivious to her brother and sister's quarrel. She is the only who looks up when Bard and Tauriel enter the kitchen. Her face brightens. "Da!"

"Good morning, Tilda," Bard says cheerfully. He nudges Bain out of the way, "I'll take over this. How about you go clean up?" Bard says as he takes over mixing the pancake batter.

"I wanted to make pancakes through," Bain says woefully.

"I know," Bard says gently. "But I think you start with something easier, like eggs. We could try that tomorrow morning. What do you think?"

Bain does not answer. He frowns and wanders out of the kitchen.

Tauriel sits on one of the barstools alongside Tilda and Sigrid. She feels oddly out of place, like she should be doing something else; she feels like she should be helping or something.

Sigrid's scowl had disappeared when Bard had taken over making the pancakes and she had started coloring industriously. She pauses and looks over at Tauriel as Tauriel sits down. Sigrid turns to Bard, "Da?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" Bard asks without looking over his shoulder.

"Aren't those shorts yours?"

Now Bard turns to look at Sigrid and then at Tauriel. Tauriel looks down at the boxer shorts that she borrowed. Only now does she notice the design. There are little Christmas trees and presents along with ribbons. The ribbons are used to write 'unwrap me'. Tauriel blushes, her cheeks burn.  _"Probably a present from his kids who would imagine wrapping their father up in wrapping paper rather than the more sexual connotation that I see."_

Bard meets Tauriel's eyes. He raises his eyebrows before answering Sigrid's question. "Sig. Do you remember when we went camping and you fell asleep in your jeans?"

"Yeah…" Sigrid says slowly.

"Remember how uncomfortable that was?"

"Yeah…" Sigrid says even slower.

"That's why. I couldn't drive her home and it would have been rude to make her sleep in jeans and be uncomfortable," Bard explains.

"Oh." Sigrid turns back to her coloring, ignoring Tauriel.

Bard looks over his shoulder, "Chocolate chips or bananas with walnuts in the pancakes?"

Tauriel hands the dirty dishes to Bard who dumps them into a sink full of soapy water. "Those were some good pancakes."

"They're not that difficult to make."

Tauriel leans back against the counter so she can watch Bard's face. "I'm hopeless in the kitchen."

Bard pauses with the washing up and smiles, "Why am I not surprised?"

"Hey!"

Bard laughs. Tauriel cannot help but smile at the sound.

"I, uh, I actually need to be getting ready to leave."

"Plans?"

"Yeah." Tauriel rocks against the counter. "Legs wanted me to go rock climbing with him and a few of his friends."

"That sounds like a fun afternoon." Bard turns back to the washing.

"What about you?"

"I've got an exciting plan of laundry, vacuuming, and movie night."

"Movie night?"

"Yep." Bard says, with a pop on the 'p'. "Every Saturday night. We alternate who gets to pick the movie. This week it's my turn."

"What have you picked?"

Bard smiles. "The Magnificent Seven."

"I've never seen it."

"You'll have to come over and watch it sometime," Bard says draining the sink and drying his hands off.

"Yes, but today I need to get going."

"Of course. I understand."

Tauriel looks down at her bare toes. "I might need to borrow a shirt, if that's not too weird or anything?" she says pulling a face. Before Bard can say anything Tauriel continues. "Just mine still smells like beer and Legs is supposed to be picking me up at my house in about ten minutes so I don't think I'll be able to make it home to get a clean one."

"That's not weird at all. I'll even wash yours for you and you can get it next time."

"Sounds good."

Tauriel follows Bard up the stairs after he looks in the living room to do a quick check on his children. "There's a clean toothbrush in the top right drawer in the bathroom if you'd like to get ready and such beyond just getting dressed."

"Awesome."

When Tauriel exits the bathroom, Bard is dressed and her jeans, shoes, and a green and blue plaid flannel sit on the bed. "I think that one will fit as good as any other. If it doesn't there are t-shirts on the middle drawer of my dresser. I need to get downstairs – I heard a crash – but, yeah." Bard disappears through the door quickly.

The green blue plaid flannel is soft and clearly well-worn and well-loved. The color and wrists are frayed and a hole has been worn through the right elbow. She tentatively holds the soft fabric to her face and inhales. She quickly gets dressed. The shirt is soft against her skin, she resists the urge lift the collar of the shirt to smell it again.

After she is dressed and she has found her second sock she digs out her phone to call Legolas to let him know that he will need to pick her up at Bard's house rather than her own. She turns the screen on to see several messages about missed phone calls. There are several missed calls from Legolas in the past half-hour. The last two are accompanied by voicemails that are more than a little frantic. She dials his number before checking the other missed calls.

Three rings and he answers. "Tauriel, where the hell are you?!"

"Calm down. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

"Don't tell me to calm down! I've been at your house for almost an hour. Where. The. Hell. Are. You."

"Jeez, Legs. I'm at Bard's. You'll need to pick me up from Bard's house."

"And you couldn't text me! Do you know what it's like to show up to your empty house and to be unable to reach you after everything that has happened?" Legolas shouts into the phone.

Tauriel flinches at the anger in Legolas' voice. She exhales heavily. "I'm sorry. I forgot. I didn't mean to upset you. I just . . . I just forgot."

"I'll be there in 20 minutes," Legolas says furiously hanging up the phone.

Tauriel scowls at the phone screen. She rolls her eyes as she checks the other missed calls. There are three of them, all from an unknown number. The calls were all spaced 30 minutes apart. The first call had come in at 3 am. The last had come in at 4:30 am. There were no messages. She deletes the call logs and slides the phone into her pocket before going downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, but grad school and my m.a. thesis attacked me. I'm also struggling with the plot so if you like this story please review!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rock climbing with Fili, Kili, Legolas, Strider, and Arwen. And a bit of a heart-to-heard with Fili and Kili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I procrastinated on my M.A. Thesis.

Tauriel had said goodbye to Bard and his children inside. Bard had asked if she wanted him to wait with her for Legolas. She had declined his offer. She would rather that he not be there when Legolas shows up, to prevent any confrontation. She sits on Bard's garden wall, waiting. She rolls the sleeves of the plaid shirt up. She does not have to wait long for Legolas' jeep to come careening down the street.

Tauriel groans. Legolas is still pissed if his driving is anything to go by. He is driving too fast and when he pulls up in front of the house the tire bumps up over the curb before bouncing back down. The car jerks to a stop.

Tauriel approaches the car sheepishly. Legolas' face is obscured through the windshield, but Tauriel can still see his stormy expression.

She opens the door. "Hey, Legs. I'm -"

"Just get in the car," Legolas snaps, interrupting Tauriel.

Tauriel frowns, but climbs into the passenger seat and slams the door. Legolas takes off almost before she can even put on her seatbelt. They are half-way across town to pick up Fíli and Kíli before Tauriel tries talking again. Legolas is not longer driving like quite like so much of a maniac.

"Legolas," Tauriel starts.

"Don't."

"Then take me home."

Legolas takes his eyes off the road to look at her. "What?"

Tauriel crosses her arms across her chest. "If you're not going to talk to me then you need to take me home. Except then you'll have to explain to the others why we're one short. I won't be belayed by someone who won't talk to me."

The car jerks to a stop at a red light, throwing Tauriel against her seatbelt. Legolas looks over at her. "You can pair up with Kíli."

"Since when?"

"Since Strider and Arwen will want to make googly eyes at each other all day. And I'm pissed with you," Legolas snaps loudly. He takes a moment to look at her, "What the hell are you wearing?"

"I borrowed it. Some idiot spilled beer on mine," Tauriel says defensibly. "I'd rather not smell like a brewery or a drunkard."

Legolas grunts. He turns back to the road when the light turns green. Neither of them speak until they pull into Fíli and Kíli's driveway. The brick ranch "I'll get them," Tauriel says throwing the door open before the car even comes to a complete stop. She bounds up to the gold-yellow door, and opens it. Tauriel and Legolas had been friends with the Durinson brothers for so long that their mother, Dís, had given her a key. Tauriel opens the door; enters the home; and almost runs into Dís.

"Sorry, Ms. Durinson!" Tauriel says while catching her own balance and grabbing Dís' arm to steady her.

"It's fine, Tauriel. But what Are you running in my house?"

"I'm here for the boys. Legolas is being a brat."

"They're upstairs in their room, I think," Dís says pushing her glasses up her nose.

"Thanks," Tauriel smiles.

Dís grabs Tauriel's arm when she moves to head upstairs. "Hold on. It's been months. The boys can wait."

Tauriel looks longingly at the wooden door that leads upstairs to the large loft space that the boys share. "Just a quick chat? Please? The boys are so busy with their lives and Thorin has been too busy with his new little one to come around."

"I suppose. I actually have a question for you."

"Come to the kitchen for a cup of tea." Dís drags Tauriel into the kitchen. "Sit."

Tauriel sits down at the kitchen table. This room is almost more familiar to her than the kitchen at her uncle's house. It was this in this room where she and Fíli had decided the join the Guard. It was in this chair where she had sat when Dís had tried to talk some sense in to the two of them. Fíli had needed to opt for the reserves; his mother and his brother needed him. It was here where the four of them had stayed up all night waiting for Dís to come home from the hospital. It was at this kitchen table where she, Legolas, and Fíli had stayed up all night their final year studying for exams while Dís made them coffee and snacks. Dís had been a mother to her when she needed it most.

"So, what is your question?" Dís places a mug in front of Tauriel.

"I think I met your brother last night," Tauriel says slowly, dunking the teabag.

"Oh?" Dís raises her eyebrows.

"I think he's friends with the guy I've gone on a few dates with."

Dís does not say anything, she only looks at Tauriel pointedly.

"The guy is Bard Bowman. But is your brother a bit of a . . . sorry . . . is he a bit of an ass?"

Dís snorts. "Yeah. That's my brother. Thorin has always been a grump. He's really only friendly to family and those that he's known for a really long time. And even then it's not a given." She pauses to sip her tea. "Did Fíli ever tell you how reacted when Fíli told him that he was going to join the Guard? When he said he wanted to be like his father, his uncles, and his grandfather."

Tauriel frowns. "No?"

Dís' lips quirk into a smile, "You should ask him to tell you sometime. It was quite a scene."

"I will ask him."

"So. Tauriel. How have you been?" Dís looks pointedly at Tauriel.

"I'm alright. My job's okay, my house is getting better, and I have my dates with Bard."

Dís nods. "I've heard about Bard from Thor; he's a good guy. But that is not what I meant."

Tauriel looks away from Dís' warm brown, understanding gaze.

"My husband, my brother, and my cousin went in to the Guard. I know what can happen and what people go through when on deployment. I thank all the gods that there are that I don't have to see my son go through that. But you're as much one of my children as they are. And I want to know if you're okay."

Tauriel does not look up. She stares into her tea, watching the cream swirl. "I could be better. But . . . I'm okay. Things are better, things are always getting better."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Tauriel can hear the smile in Dís' voice.

"If anything is ever not okay. I want you to come to me. Even if you don't come to me as a doctor, I hope you'll come to me as someone that cares about you." Dís reaches for Tauriel's hand and squeezes it. "I won't judge you."

Tauriel pulls her hand back, and feels guilty when she sees hurt flash through Dís' eyes. "I will come to you if anything is ever not okay. But, right now, everything is good. And I don't see that changing." She stands abruptly. "I'm going to go get Fíli and Kíli. Legolas is probably pissed that I've kept him waiting."

When she turns to dash through the door she sees Fíli standing in the doorway, a soft and tender expression on his face.

"What are you looking at, Shelob-face?" Tauriel snaps defensively.

Amusement crosses Fíli's face at the childhood insult. "Nothing. Kíli's already in the car. I came back in for you."

"Fine. Let's go." Tauriel pushes past Fíli. She fails to see the silent conversation between mother and son that takes place behind her back.

They always go climbing in the Mountains of Mirkwood. Normally, Tauriel sits with her nose pressed against the window waiting for the granite peaks to appear over the leafy tops of the tall trees. Today, however she is leaning back and staring at the grey felt ceiling of the Jeep. Kíli had claimed the front seat of the vehicle leaving Fíli and Tauriel with the backseat. Kíli was in charge of the music. Fíli keeps rolling his eyes and bickering lightly with Kíli over his musical tastes.

In between Fíli and Kíli's good-natured ribbing Fíli pokes Tauriel in the ribs, which causes her to jump and scowl at him. He leans close, "Are you okay?"

"Later," Tauriel replies shortly. "During lunch?"

Fíli looks serious, "Yeah. Are you sure?"

Tauriel nods and turns to look away from him and out the window.

They pull in to the gravel parking lot not too much later. They pull up next to Arwen's car. Strider is stretched out across the hood of the grey sedan. Legolas is unloading gear from the back of his car, "Fí, you're with Tauriel today."

"Why?"

"You just are, okay." Legolas snaps, slamming the hatchback. "You're with me, Kíli."

Fíli and Tauriel's eyes meet, Fíli raises his eyebrows. Tauriel shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "Come on, Fí," Tauriel says hoisting the dynamic rope over her shoulder and turning her back on the others who were still getting the equipment and packs out of the cars. "Let's go find a starting point."

Fíli throws a look back towards Legolas and his brother before shrugging and following Tauriel.

"A bit of a challenge?" Tauriel asks not even looking over her shoulder.

"Sure," Fíli says, taking a few long steps to catch up with her.

"Do you want to lead or should I?"

Tauriel huffs a sigh. "You should probably lead."

"Alright." They stop at the face of the grey stone cliff. The others are still some distance back. "Ready?"

Tauriel does not answer she just starts pulling the starting equipment of carabiners, etc.

Fíli and Tauriel reach the top last having picked the most time consuming route out of the group. Kíli was sitting by himself some distance from Legolas, Strider, and Arwen. "What's up with you?" Fíli asked shoving Kíli over on the rock to make room for himself and Tauriel. Kíli only grunted and moved higher up on the rock fall. He lay on his stomach and hung over the edge so he was still included in the grouping.

"Legs is being a dick," Kíli grumbles around his sandwich. "What up with him?" The question is directed at Tauriel.

"Yeah," Fíli interjects, "you said you'd share when we broke for lunch."

"Now?" Tauriel asks, a whine in her voice.

"Yes, now," Kíli says sternly. "He lead and was practically pulling me up behind him. It was awful."

"Fine." Tauriel does not begin speaking until after she opens a granola bar and eats a bit of it. "I had a date last night."

Kíli whistles.

"Stop it, dweeb," Fíli says shoving his brothers head down.

"We went to a quiz night and when we got back to his place it was late and we were both a bit drunk so I stayed the night."

Kíli, obviously not discouraged by his brother's chastisement interrupts again, "Was the sex good?" he asks with a feral grin."

Fíli shoves Kíli again. "What is wrong with you? Someone would think that you have no manners."

"I have manners. I just choose not to use them." Kíli sticks his tongue out at Fíli before turning his attention back to Tauriel, "So?"

Tauriel's eyebrows furrow and she shakes her head reprovingly. "There wasn't any. We slept. We woke up. He made pancakes. I called Legolas to tell him that he'd need to pick me up there, and now he's been pissy ever since."

"Why is he so tetchy about you having a date?"

Tauriel picks at the hem of the plaid shirt. "It's not the date. It's the not being home. And not calling him last night to let him know."

"Jeez, he sounds like mum," Kíli mumbles.

"Only with you," Fíli shoots back. "She's got reason to worry with you." Revelation spreads across Fíli's face, "Did Leggles have a reason to worry. Was this guy sketchy?"

"No. Bard is fine; he's probably the least sketchy person I've ever met," Tauriel says quickly.

Fíli raises his eyebrows, "Something else then?"

Tauriel looks away. She had never told Fíli and Kíli for the same reason that she had never told her uncle. She and Legolas had agreed that none of them would react well. But, now . . . Well, it does not matter what Legolas thought. She had wanted to tell them from the beginning. She had avoided spending time alone with the brothers because she was not sure she would be able to not tell them.

"Yeah. You could say that."

Fíli instinctually shifts closer. "What happened," he asks softly.

"Remember Bolg?"

"That blonde jarhead asshole?" Kíli asks more loudly necessary.

"Yeah."

"He came to that one Christmas party when you got leave from deployment," Fíli says slowly.

Tauriel sighs heavily through her nose. "Yeah, that's him."

"What happened," Fíli reiterates.

"You're not getting any details," Tauriel snaps firmly.

"That's fine," Fíli says quietly.

"We 'dated' throughout much of my deployment. It wasn't really dating through, because he was my superior officer. Towards the end I broke it off with him. I couldn't deal with it all anymore. To put it lightly . . . he did not take it well. Reporting things like that never go anywhere. So I kept my mouth shut and my head down until I got to come home. And, now I'm here. Bolg's deployment was longer than mine. He has not tried to contact me. I have heard nothing from or about him since I came home." Tauriel shrugs awkwardly. "I told Legolas and now he seems to worry about things like that when I don't keep him updated."

While Tauriel was talking Fíli and Kíli's faces became stormy. Fíli's cheeks and ears are flushed darkly, almost maroon.

"Tau," Fíli stops and swallows. "You should still report him." His tone is clipped and angry.

"They never do anything about it, Fí. You know how things work," Tauriel says tiredly.

"I know. But it is still complete bullshit," Fíli snaps.

"It is," Tauriel squeezes his leg. "But I'm fine. Everything is good know, or it's getting there."

"Fine. I still want to go rip out his guts and kick his ass from here 'til next Sunday."

"I know," Tauriel sighs. "I do too."

Kíli has not said anything he just reaches out and puts a hand on Tauriel's shoulder.

"Have you told the guy you're seeing?"

"No!" Tauriel startles in surprise. "It's a bright, shiny, and new relationship, why ruin it?"

The conversation is interrupted by Legolas. "It's time to move one," he says loudly.

Kíli rolls up into a sitting position and mutters under his breath, "Bossy prick."

That catches Tauriel off guard and she starts laughing; and then Fíli starts laughing too.


	13. Chapter 13

 

When Legolas drops Tauriel off at her house he is still not speaking to her. She rolls her eyes and shuts the door firmly. She fishes her keys from her pocket as she approaches her door. She listens for the roar of the jeep as it pulls away. She jumps a little and turns when she hears a car door slam behind her.

"What are you doing, Fee?"

"I haven't seen you much lately. Plus, I just feel like you shouldn't be alone."

"I'm fine. I have been . . ."

Fili interrupts, "I know, but you were telling me about that movie that you got that sounded cool. I thought we could watch that or something."

"You're as bad as Legolas," Tauriel groans.

Fili grins. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Tauriel turns to unlock her door. "Of course you don't," she mumbles to herself. Before opening the door, she checks her mailbox out of habit not expecting anything. However, a thick square envelope meets her questing fingers. She frowns as she pulls it from the mailbox.

"What is it?" Fili asks stepping closer to look at the card.

Tauriel's blood runs cold when she recognizes the handwriting. "Nothing," she says before quickly folding the letter and stuffing it in the back pocket of her jeans.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, now get inside," Tauriel shoves at Fili's shoulder, but he ducks away.

Fili disappears into the living room. "Where are your movies?"

"In the cabinet under the TV," Tauriel replies. She toes her shoes off and kicks them into the corner. She purposefully ignores the folded up letter – bomb – in her pocket. Despite the face she put on for Fili and Kíli, everything with Bolg was not okay, nor was she okay with everything. She had not told them that she had been counting down the days until he was out of the Rangers all while telling herself that she was not tracking it, nor was she worried about it any way. Lies. The lies she told herself.

"How about this one?" Fili appears around the corner holding up a case with a young wizard on the front.

"Really? You want to revisit seventh grade?"

Fili pulls an incredulous face, "Are you telling me that you don't? They're awesome movies. We had the marathon before you shipped out for boot camp, remember?"

"How could I forget that one," Tauriel laughs at the memory. "I was finding popcorn in obscene places for weeks."

Fili holds a hand up. "I promise that will not happen this time around. Besides, that was Kíli, not me."

"Didn't he want to stay?" Tauriel asks, changing the subject.

"Yeah, but he's got some coursework to finish and I'm not about to let him flunk a test for a movie marathon."

"That's semi-reasonable." Tauriel pushes past Fili and flops onto her couch. "But remember how many nights where we stayed up watching movies before exams in high school. We never flunked."

Fili puts the disc in and sits down next to Tauriel. "I know," he smiles, "but Kíli's got less focus, he's more reckless. Plus, math isn't his favorite or best subject, and he _needs_ to pass this class."

"Ah, I suppose that makes sense." Tauriel pulls a pillow over and hugs it to her chest.

They watch the opening credits. The familiar music is deeply comforting. Fili kicks his boots off and stretches, casting his arm over the back of the couch. Tauriel leans against Fili. This is something they did all through high school; it is nice to be in a familiar and easy situation.

"How have you been, Fee? We talked about me earlier," Tauriel asks as the movie plays on.

Fili shrugs. "Everything's okay. There's the weekend events with the Reserve Guard, and then my courses."

"What are you majoring in again?"

"Criminal justice."

"What are you going to do with that one? Keep Kili out of trouble?"

"I'm not sure yet." Fili shifts and props he feet up on the table. "I was thinking lawyer or police work."

"Those are two very different careers."

"I know; that's why I haven't decided. I severely doubt that I could sit still long enough to attend law school."

"Hmmm."

The pair sits in companionable silence for a while longer. When the credits begin rolling Fili gets up and puts the second film in. "Do you have anything to drink?"

Tauriel forces herself to sit up and shake off the sleepy daze that had settled over her. "Uh . . . yeah, there's water and Gatorade in the kitchen."

"Anything more . . . adult?"

"Oh, yeah. I think that there's some beer and cider on the bottom shelf. I'm not sure what it is. Legolas got it ages ago."

Fili disappears into the kitchen, "Do you want one?"

"That should be my question." Tauriel sits up and stretches.

"That's not an answer!"

"A glass of water would be nice."

Fili looks around the corner. "Are you sure? If I need a beer as badly as I do I'm sure that you need one more."

"I'm sure. I don't drink that much anymore. I only drink on special occasions."

"Isn't this a special occasion? It's a reunion and a movie marathon."

Tauriel rolls her eyes. "Fine. Bring me one. Hurry up though, the intro is almost over."

The pair watch the rest of the movie and the next movie is relative silence. Fili gets an other beer whenever his runs out and they just share comfortable silence. Part way through the fourth film Tauriel dozes off on Fili's shoulder.

* * *

 

"Tau. Tau, wake up," Fili shakes Tauriel gently.

Tauriel groans.

"Come on, Tau. I'm sure your bed is more comfortable than my shoulder and the couch. If you don't wake up and take your bed then I'll take it."

"Fuck off…" Tauriel groans pulling the pillow over her face.

Fili chuckles. He takes away the pillow. "Do you really want me to take your bed? You can sleep on the couch if you want."

Tauriel forces her eyes open as far as she can. She blearily peers up at Fili's face. He is nothing but a blurry face with a golden halo. "Help," she demands, holding out her hands.

Fili grabs her hands and pulls her to her feet. She stands unsteadily and makes her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Fili follows her to make sure that she does not fall down and hurt herself; or decide to just sit down and fall asleep in the hallway.

"G'night, Fee," Tauriel says sleepily.

"Sleep well," Fili replies before making his way down the stairs.

Tauriel quickly pulls own pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt after she shuts her bedroom door. She crawls under the blankets. She searches for her favorite blanket, curls around it, and absently rubs the cool, soft fabric against her cheek. She lays cocooned in the soft warmth of her bed drifting off to sleep. She returns to full wakefulness with a start when she remembers the letter in the back pocket of her jeans. The letter that she had not wanted to open in front of Fili, the letter that she did not want anyone to see.

She flicks on the lamp and finds her jeans pulling the crumpled envelope from the back pocket. She sits back on the edge of her bed and stares down at her address written in familiar cramped handwriting. The letters are pressed into the paper with the force behind the pen. _Her_ address. How did he get her address? The nauseous feeling from early returns, but this time it is much worse. She feels light-headed and clammy. Tauriel opens the draw of her bedside table forcefully with the intention of stuffing the letter in it and then forgetting about it.

Tauriel stops when she feels a hard shape in the letter. It is folded in the layers of paper making it impossible to distinguish without opening the envelope. She slowly shuts the drawer. She takes a deep breath. She exhales and catches her finger under the flap of the envelope; tearing it open. She drops the papers and unknown object into her hand. The envelope flutters to the floor. She slowly unfolds the letter. In the center of the paper, surrounded by that cramped and angry handwriting is one of her spare dog tags. She had forgotten that she had given away the spare pair.

She picks up the oblong piece of metal. The indents of the letters, the notch in the side, and the chain are as familiar to her as her own fingertips. She traces her name lightly – Thranduilion, Tauriel L. She closes her fingers around the metal rectangle before turning her attention to the writing itself.

_Tauriel,_

_I found this while cleaning out my house on base. I figured that you might like it returned to you. I'm sure that you don't remember giving it to me that night at the bar after your birthday. You had several more shots than you could handle. I think about what happened after we left the bar a lot. I'm glad that I wasn't too drunk to remember it._

_I have fond memories of most of our time together. I remember that Christmas at your uncle's house. Your family is something else – how are they doing, by the way? – Your uncle's stories about the Guard from the old days were quite interesting. I hope my kids and yours think our stories are half as interesting. Part of me doubts that though with all the regulations that restrict everyone now._

_I recently received my discharge papers and I'm moving to Dale for a job in security. I'm hoping we can meet up for coffee sometime. You work in a coffee shop now, right? I think I've seen you there before. I've missed you. I've been wondering if we could start back up where we left off._

_Hope you're well._

_Love,_

_Bolg de Azog_

Tauriel stares down at the dog tag that rests in her palm. Tauriel remembers that night all too well; she wishes she could forget it. She had hoped that he would not be able to find her despite his threats/promises that he would find her wherever she went. At the beginning that had been a comforting promise, but, now, it was a terrifying threat. The letters blur through her angry tears, her scared tears. She feels like an angry hot balloon is about to burst from her chest. She hurls the dog tag as hard as she can at the wall. It bounces off the dark green wall and lands with metallic 'cling' in the darkness that is outside the lamps circle of light. She stuffs the letter into the drawer beside her bed and turns off the light. She chokes on the tears that burn her eyes. She slams her fist into the bed. The relief she expected to feel from hitting something does not come.

In this moment, she realizes that she has not checked her phone – it is probably dead by now – all day. But she cannot find the heart or the energy to crawl out of her bed to find her phone to check for messages from Legolas or Bard. The fear and sorrow and anger well up further until she feels like she cannot breathe. Then the tears come hot, hard, and fast. She curls around her favorite blanket and hopes that Fili cannot hear her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday morning. Bard shows up and picks up the pieces.

 

"Bain! Hurry up! Your grandparents are waiting!"

Bain is scrambling around the living room stuffing his hands between the cushions. "I can't find my charger," he whines.

Bard rolls his eyes. "Where did you last have it?"

"On the couch when Til and Sigrid were watching their stupid show last night." Bain flips the couch cushion onto the floor.

"You must have had it somewhere else. If the last time you had it was when you were on the couch then it would still be there. Did you put it away like you were supposed to?"

Bain looks up sheepishly, "… No."

"Five more minutes and then we really need to get going. Your sisters are already in the car."

Bain nods and resumes his search before dashing from the living room to look elsewhere. He leaves the couch cushions and pillows on the floor where he had tossed them.

Bard leans against the wall in the hallway listening to his son's frantic footsteps over his head. He pulls out his cellphone and checks his messages. This is probably the fifth time this morning that he has checked. He had tried calling Tauriel the night before – no answer. And he had sent a few text messages. It was nothing urgent, just humorous observations and questions. He had not necessarily expected replies, but it was odd that he had heard nothing from Tauriel since the morning before. He worries that he might have said something wrong and scared her away.

_\- Good morning! The kids and I are on our way to my parents' house (happens every Sunday because it keeps my mom happy). Do you have any exciting plans for your Sunday? –_ Bard quickly types out a message. When Bain reappears – red-faced and breathless but clutching his game charger – Bard quickly slides his phone into his pocket and grabs his keys. "Ready?"

Bain nods his head and dashes outside to the SUV.

His parents live on the other side of the city in a small neighborhood full of single and two story homes that are constructed to look like they are much older than they really are. They all have sloping front yards and spacious back gardens. It was the same house that he had grown up in; he always feels a bit nostalgic coming back here. The kids might spend more time here if it wasn't for the lengthy drive.

Almost before Bard puts the car in park Tilda has opened her door and is running across the freshly mowed lawn. Bard's mother and father already stand at the door.

"Gran'pa!" Tilda squeals as Bard's father, Steve, scoops his youngest granddaughter into his arms.

"Hi, sweetheart," Steve grins at Tilda. He addresses Bard, "How was the traffic on your way over?" He ruffles Bain's hair as the boy runs past.

"I swear that drive gets longer each week." Bard's only half paying attention. He discreetly checks for any new messages on his phone: nothing.

"You should just move out here," Elda says. "The Petersons over on Gibson are selling their house. It's got four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a full basement, it even has a hidden second story that acts as an office or a small suite."

Bard looks up from his phone. He narrows his eyes, "It sounds like you've already looked at it."

"We'd be able to watch the children more often because we'd be so close. The house has a _huge_ backyard; it's practically a field compared to the tiny garden that you have right now. You know a lot of the people around here. Plus, the school system is great and the kids could walk to school from the house."

Bard groans internally. "The kids and I have a life over in the Lake District. I grew up here in Possum Woods, I know it's perks, but I'm not uprooting my family."

"I'll leave you two to it," Steve says extracting himself from the conversation that he knows will last all day and might devolve in to shouting later one.

"Actually, Dad, I'm not staying." Bard gestures over his shoulder towards his car. "I've got something I need to do."

Steve nods and turns to go into the house where Sigrid is calling his name. Elda, however, confronts Bard. "What is more important than spending time with your family? Maybe if you lived nearby this wouldn't be such a big deal –"

Bard interrupts his mother, "I know you want to see the kids more than you want to see me. And I'd rather not spend my day arguing with you. I need to check on someone to make sure that they're okay."

"Would this "someone" be that trollop I met when I was watching the children the other night?"

"I need to check on a friend," Bard repeats; he purposefully ignores his mother's question. "I'll be back to pick up the children after dinner." Bard turns on his heel and gets back into his car. He punches Tauriel's address into his phone and hooks it up to the Bluetooth system before pulling out of the driveway. On the drive around the city to Tauriel's neighborhood, he keeps hoping to receive a text message.

Bard had heard about "ghosting" from some of his undergraduate students. He had had more than one of his female students in his office crying and saying that they could not take their finals because they had been "ghosted" and they were very upset. He did not fully understand it and Tauriel did not seem like the type of person to do that, but it crossed his mind. He was more worried that something had happened to her and her friends when they were rock climbing the day before.

At least once a minute he considers turning around and going back to his parents' house. He feels a bit like an overprotective ass, something that he has never desired to be. He just wants to make sure that everything is okay.

* * *

 

Tauriel wakes up slowly. Under her cheek is her old blanket and Bard's flannel shirt. It is soft and comforting. She feels warm; however, this normally comfortable feeling has an edge of groggy sickness to it. She is confused as to what woke her. She lifts her head and the world spins around her. She throws her legs over the side of the bed fighting the swirling sick feeling in her chest. Her muscles ache and protest her movement. The last time she can remembering feeling this sick and sore in the morning was after their sergeant made them run through the assault course because he was not happy with their times; she and the members of her platoon had lost count after twenty times through.

Tauriel rubs her eyes; they are sore and feel inflamed. It reminds her of the allergies that she never had until she went south into Harad. As she rubs her eyes fragments of the nightmares that she had been having all night come back to her: shouting, darkness, pain, blinding sunlight…

"There's someone here to see you."

Tauriel startles and looks up to see Fili standing in her open doorway. His golden hair is in disarray and sunlight from the hall window covers him in golden light. His eyes are still heavy with sleep. "What?"

"There's some guy here to see you," Fili repeats, he slurs his words a little.

Tauriel's stomach twists. For an instant she worries that it might be Bolg looking for that meet-up that he mentioned in his letter. Fili must see the panicked edge to her face because he adds, "He's got long dark hair."

Tauriel sighs and hangs her head. "I'll be down in a moment."

Fili nods and disappears down the stairs.

Tauriel stands up stretching. The room has a slight chill to it after the cool night with the windows open. She pulls the plaid flannel shirt on over her sleep shirt. She half-stumbles down the stairs and into the hallway where she sees Bard standing in the foyer. She quickly pulls the shirt closer around her chest and crosses her arms. "Bard?"

"Tauriel," Bard smiles. "You didn't reply to any of my messages. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. To make sure that you hadn't fallen off some cliff yesterday," he finishes with a laugh.

"I'm fine. I . . ." Tauriel peeks into the living where she sees her presumably dead cellphone. "I forgot to charge it after we got back. It died while we were out on the cliffs and I just never charged it," she finishes lamely.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you made it home okay. I'm afraid that's the father coming out in me," Bard jokes.

Tauriel rubs her feet together and smiles. Suddenly, however, she is overly aware of how Fili is dressed and how that might look. "Bard, this is my friend Fili," Tauriel tugs Bard further into the hallway and out of the foyer so he can see into the living where Fili is sitting on the couch. "We grew up together, he's like my brother. We binge watched one of our favorite movies series from high school."

"Hey," Fili waves his hand in Bard's direction. Most of his attention is focused on the steaming mug of coffee that he holds between his hands.

"Nice to meet you, Fili – is it?"

Fili nods sleepily.

Bard looks away from Fili and moves away from the living room and into the hallway. He touches Tauriel's shoulder gently, "Are you okay?"

"Hmmm?"

"You don't look so good," Bard gestures to her face.

Tauriel frowns and takes a few steps over to look in the mirror by the door. Her frown deepens when she sees that her brown eyes are red and puffy. Despite the hours she spent sleeping she looks exhausted and upset. "I, uh . . . I didn't sleep well."

Bard's eyebrows narrow.

Tauriel glances in the living room where Fili still sits. "I'd rather not talk about it down here." She shuffles her feet.

Bard nods. Tauriel leads him upstairs to her bedroom.

"I'd just rather not talk about it in front of Fili. We used to be really close, but . . ." Tauriel shrugs and pulls at her t-shirt self-consciously.

Bard steps closer and pushes the bedroom door mostly shut. "It's fine." He hugs her gently. "Do you want to sit down?"

Tauriel nods. She turns and crawls onto her bed. Bard follows her, he sits with his back against the headboard and propped up by pillows. As soon as he is comfortable Tauriel lays her head on his chest and curls around him. Bard's heart misses a beat, it stutters. He wraps an arm around her shoulders. Her position reminds him of his children after they have had a nightmare. He wants to ask if she is all right again, but he does not want to push her.

Searching for something to break the silence Bard asks, "Do you like hippos?"

"What?" Tauriel shifts to look up at Bard's face.

"Your shirt," he explains, "has a hippo on it."

Tauriel looks down; she had not paid attention to what was on the t-shirt she had put on. "Oh, yeah," she smiles. "They're one of my favorite animals. I had a stuffed one when I was little, but he got lost somewhere along the way. Did you have a favorite animal when you were a kid?"

"Dragons," Bard states simply. His chest rumbles with laughter and Tauriel giggles, some of the darkness from early is already dissipating.

"I meant _real_ animals," she corrects herself.

"Dragons are real," Bard smiles.

Tauriel pokes him in the side.

"All right, all right," Bard grins. "I had two pet rats when I was growing up. I always got a new pair when the old pair passed away. I'd have them now, but my kids are all that I can handle."

Tauriel snuggles down against Bard's chest. She listens to his heartbeat and the rumble of his words. As her bad feelings fade away, she starts to feel tired again.

"When the Bardlings are older will you get them again?"

"Maybe." Bard threads his fingers through her hair.

Tauriel hums and presses her head in to his hand.

They lay there silently for a few minutes. Bard can feel the tension disappearing from Tauriel. "What had you upset earlier?"

Tauriel tenses again, but that does not shake away the sleepy warmth that is settling over her. "Just something unpleasant from my time in the guard," she presses her face into Bard's t-shirt. He smells like soap.

"I'm sorry," Bard says quietly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Tauriel shakes her head, "It's stupid." She speaks so quietly that her words are almost inaudible.

"I'm sure it's not. If you want to talk though I am more than willing to listen," Bard comforts while stroking her flaming hair.

Tauriel does not respond. After a while her breathing evens out and Bard knows that she has fallen asleep. His arm is a little tingly, but he does not want to move her even though she is drooling on his shirt.

Bard leans his head back and closes his eyes. He does not sleep; he only rests. He never stops stroking her hair or rubbing her back. He feels like an idiot that he had thought, something had happened to her or that she might be ghosting him, but he is glad that he came over. Something is wrong and even if she does not want to talk about it, he wants to be here for her.

A while later Fili sticks his head through the door, "Tau?"

Bard lifts his head and puts a finger to his lips.

Fili nods and takes several steps further in to the room so that he can speak more quietly. "I was going to tell Tau that I was leaving. Can you let her know?"

Bard nods, "Yeah, I can do that."

Fili turns to leave, but he hesitates and turns back around. "Can you also tell her that if she needs anything she can feel free to text me?"

Bard nods again.

Fili smiles, "Thanks, mate."

Bard rolls a little on to his side so he can wrap both arms around Tauriel as she sleeps.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started working on this chapter immediately after posting chapter 13, because I knew what I wanted to happen and was excited (you'll see that this is a little perverse after reading the series of chapters) about writing it. However, it got away from me and had to be split into two (possibly three) chapters. I know, as a reader, I prefer shorter more frequent updates than a HUGE update every two months.

Tauriel purposefully forgot about the letter. She pushed it from her mind. She used the fact that nothing had changed to justify such purposeful forgetfulness. No one new had come in to the coffee shop outside of bleary-eyed and messy-haired students. No noticeably new cars drove down her street. And if they did none of them lingered. The cars parked on her street and the neighboring ones had not changed. Bolg had not made an appearance in the two weeks since the letter. Maybe he was really just being polite - if not just a little overly friendly seeing how things had ended – and not malicious or acting with other intentions. She continued to get calls at odd hours from a number that she did not now. She had answered it once, but there had been no one on the other end. It happened infrequently, every few days, but it always happened at inopportune times; when she was driving, when she was showing. Each time that the number showed up she would grumble, " _Telemarketers_ ," and press ignore. She talked to Legolas about getting her number changed, but it was not horribly inconvenient, just mildly annoying on occasion. This happened on occasion; she would get a whole slew of calls from a number and then it would stop just as abruptly as it began.

Tauriel also used the lack of change to the _status quo_ to avoid telling Bard about the letter or about Bolg. Whenever a hint of shame would creep up, she would quickly squash it. There was no point in upsetting something over a person who was not even around. Why worry him for nothing? It was for that same reason that she did not give Fili a straight answer when he asked her what had been wrong over the weekend – he had made protective posturing gestures about hurting Bard in that same text. She also kept it from Legolas when he finally stopped giving a cold stare each time he saw her. Everything had returned to normal.

Bard had not asked about the incident further. She had avoided answering. She even told herself that the _real_ reason she had been upset was because of how tired she was and the couple of drinks she had had. They had not seen each other outside of their short morning conversations in the coffee shop. They had been texting frequently, but those conversations were always stunted and cut short by other obligations. Tauriel was losing count of the number of times conversations had to be put on hold because a student actually showed up to his office hours. Bard swore in the past two weeks he had more students come to his office hours than he had in all of his other semesters combined. He had even had to extend his office hours, which cut into his morning coffee time.

\- _Finally! -_ The text comes when Tauriel is kneeling in her front garden tugging at stubborn weeds. She had come home from work that morning and had stared at the primarily dirt patch that she called a garden. She had grown to hate that dirt in the minute she spent staring at it. She had googled questions about garden care in the fall, and how to get a garden ready for the spring as she lay in bed trying to fall asleep. When she woke up she dug around in the shed behind the house looking for basic gardening tools to help her pull up unwanted vegetation. Her landlord had encouraged her to do something with the garden, but she had mostly ignored the space with impunity until this morning. She wipes her hands on her jeans and pulls her phone from her hoodie pocket – the weather had taken a cold turn towards the last weeks of September.

\- _?_ -

The reply comes immediately. – _Exams are over and graded, and I'm cancelling my office hours next week. I need a break. –_

Tauriel smiles as she types out a reply. _– Are you allowed to just not have office hours? –_

\- _It's that or murder my students. I think the administration would frown on a faculty member killing students._ –

\- _True. –_

_\- Since I won't be buried under a stack of papers would you like to join the kids and me for our movie night? –_

\- _That depends on the movies. –_

_\- Oh… hmm… there will probably be some princesses trapped in towers and/or guarded by dragons, and then some car-robot-things."_

_\- Car-robot-things? I'm in! –_

When the reply does not come immediately Tauriel shoves her phone in her pocket and picks up the tools that are scattered around her. She kicks the weeds into the corner of the garden and stretches her back. She's locking up the shed when her phone dings again.

\- _Should I pick you up? –_

_\- When? –_

\- _Now? –_

_\- ? –_ After she sends the last text she hears a car parking on the street. She peeks around the corner of the house to see Bard's back SUV backing into a parallel parking space. Tauriel rolls her eyes, stuffs her phone back in her pocket, and approaches the SUV as Bard climbs out of the driver's seat.

"Were you texting while driving?"

"No," Bard smiles. "There are a lot of stop signs on your road."

"But …" Tauriel stops when she sees his face. He is wearing glasses. His dark hair curls lightly around the earpieces. The frames are heavy and black. His cheeks almost touch the bottoms of the frames when he smiles – his eyes crinkle at the corners. Her heart skips a beat and her stomach twists.

"Glasses?" Tauriel gestures to her own face.

"Oh. Yeah." Bard takes the glasses off and rubs his face briefly before putting them back on. "My allergies act up in the fall making it almost impossible for me to wear my contacts."

"I didn't know you were contacts."

"I have the ones I don't have to take out, which I prefer. I like being able to forget that my eyesight isn't perfect. I actually hate wearing them, but, right now, its wear them or be half-blind. I had perfect vision until a few years ago. I don't need them for reading, but I need them for seeing anything that is at a distance."

"They," Tauriel stutters. "They suit your face."

"Thanks." Bard's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Are you ready to go?"

"I need to change," Tauriel gestures to her jeans and boots that are covered with dirt and mud.

Bard makes a dismissive gesture. "They're fine. Come on," he opens the passenger door.

"I still need my keys and stuff," Tauriel protests.

"Fine," Bard says affecting a long-suffering tone. "But hurry."

"Tau'iel!" Tilda collides with Tauriel's legs as soon as Tauriel walks through the door.

"Hi!" Tauriel pats Tilda's head, unsure of how she should respond to such an enthusiastic greeting. She looks towards Bard for guidance but he is engaged in conversation with the babysitter about how much he owes her and setting up the schedule for the next week. Bard had mentioned her a few times. The teenaged girl, Rosie Cotton, lived around the corner near Bilbo. Bard had mentioned her because her boyfriend, Sam, had worked miracles on his garden.

"Do you want to see Pete?" Tilda asks tugging on Tauriel's hand.

"Uh, sure. Who's Pete?"

Tilda does not answer but proceeds to tug on Tauriel's hand, leading her towards the stairs.

Bard, who had been listening to the conversation interrupts Tilda's plan. "Til, Tauriel doesn't need to meet Pete."

"But –"

Rosie interrupts Tilda's protestations, "Why don't you show me that new doll of yours again?"

Tilda frowns, "I guess." She plods into the living room; Rosie follows.

Bard looks supremely relieved; his smile is thin and wane.

Tauriel frowns quizzically. "Who's Pete?"

Bard looks away uncomfortably. "It's more of a question of WHAT Pete is."

"Hmm…?"

Bard rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "She was in the back garden helping me dig up some morning glories and we a snakeskin. And she took off with the it and wouldn't throw it out. I made her clean it of . . . and then she named it Pete. I've been trying to toss it for the past week, but she keeps noticing that it's missing and throwing a big fit until I give it back to her."

"That's . . . odd," Tauriel says, for lack of anything else to say in response. "At least it's clean."

"I insisted on that. I really should just throw it out and not be swayed by her crying, but . . ." Bard spreads his hand in helpless gesture, "I am powerless in the face of her female wiles."

Tauriel raises an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Really," Bard confirms seriously.

Bain greeted Tauriel when he appeared when the smell of pizza wafted up the stairs. His eyes were glued to his handheld video game. He curls up in the arm chair; moving as if on autopilot. Sigrid scowls when she flounces into the room and sees Tauriel sitting there. She does not say anything, but she looks like she really wants to. Tilda curls up between Bard and Tauriel and Bard manages to keep her from talking about Pete.

Tauriel has seen the movie with the princess in it many times so when Bard gets up and moves towards the kitchen to get a drink Tauriel follows him, stretching her legs as she walks. Bard pours a glass of water and sits down at the table.

"There are only so many times I can watch that movie," he groans into his hands as he rubs his face with his hands.

"I saw that one quite often when I was on base. For whatever reason every time girls from the platoon would get together that movie would end up playing."

"Thank God someone else is sick of the movie! Bilbo loves the movie. He even "shushes" me during it if I try to have an adult conversation."

"I can't say that I'm sick of it. I honestly cannot remember how it ends – ever."

"It ends as you would probably expect it to. Girl and the guy fall in love, she's a princess, her family accepts her without any reservation no real questioning if she is _really_ their daughter. Typical kid movie."

Tauriel leans back against the counter. "That sounds familiar."

"I love my kids, but sometimes, I wish I could have a real break." Bard smiles sheepishly. "Tilda and Sigrid watch this movie every time that they have a chance. And it's like that stupid snakeskin, hiding it does nothing. They _know_ that it's missing and I'm left pretending that I found it under the couch or behind the TV so that I don't have to come clean about stealing their movie."

"Do you lie to your children often?" Tauriel teases, smiling.

"Being a parent means being a good liar or being a bad parent. Imagine if I had to tell them that I hated the movie, and that I was stealing it from them? This is why there are fairy tales, and ghost stories about magical creatures who take things, hide things, and move things."

Tauriel laughs. "That _almost_ sounds like fun."

"It can be. But it can also be tiring. I'm tempted to let my mom take them on the weekends like she keeps begging me to. She even wants them for several weeks in the summer, but I can't bring myself to do it."

"Why do you always have them? Did you get full custody in the divorce or something?" Tauriel was trying to keep the conversation light, but the second the words left her mouth, she knew she should not have said them.

Bard looks away and the comfortable and pleased expression quickly fades into a melancholy and uncomfortable one. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes disappear and the corners of his lips turn downwards. He shifts in his seat, the chair swiveling toward the table and away from Tauriel. He spins his cup of water slowly with one hand as he stares at it, but does not see it.

Tauriel swallows thickly. "I'm sorry . . . I shouldn't have a –" Tauriel starts to say, but Bard interrupts her.

"There was no divorce. She killed herself."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Bard and his wife, Sarah

"Bard, I –" Tauriel starts to say again, but stops when Bard holds his hand up stopping her. He does not look at her; he just stares at his cup of water.

Tauriel's hands that were resting on the edge of the counter grip the counter, her knuckles turn white and her stomach twists uncomfortable and her legs feel a bit numb.

"I'm sorry . . ." This time Bard does not say anything, but Tauriel still stops. Her tongue is heavy in her mouth. The expression on his face is pinched and pained, his eyes seem duller, like there is a little less life in him now; Tauriel just wants to sit down, but she does not trust herself to let go of the counter, much less move.

Bard swallows. His throat works heavily. His jaw clenches and unclenches. His head jerks and looks towards the door to the hallway; the music from the credits is playing and filtering out into the kitchen. "It's fine," He says thickly. "I just . . . I need to put the kids to bed. They don't know and I'd like to keep it that way for now." His voice and his expression are tight; he does not meet Tauriel's eyes.

"You don't have to tell me," Tauriel says. Her voice is small, it is almost a whisper and she is not sure if he heard her.

"It's fine," Bard repeats. "It's something that would have to come up at some point; I just hadn't figured out when yet. I haven't had to bring it up to anyone in a long time. Not since it happened, at least."

"Oh . . . you haven't dated before . . . me?"

"No." Bard looks down, frowning. "We can talk about this after I get the little ones to bed." When Bard finishes speaking, he stands abruptly and goes to the living room.

Tauriel does not move at first. She slowly moves from her frozen position listening to Bain and Sigrid shouting about not wanting to go to bed.

"But you said I could watch my movie if I watched Sig and Til's stupid movie!"

"But it's movie night! We get to stay up late on movie nights! That's the rules! _You_ made the rules! It's because _she's_ here!"

Bard is speaking so quietly to the children that Tauriel cannot hear his responses the Bain and Sigrid's shouts.

Bard herds Sigrid and Bain towards the stairs. Tilda is cradled in his arms. Her face nestled into his neck. Tauriel's heart twinges at the tender moment between Bard and Tilda, but that twinge just makes her feel worse that she brought up the subject of his wife. She had assumed divorce, because there were no pictures of her around the house. The kids never talked about her. And she thought that Bard's mother did not like her because she loved the children's mother. Wrong. All wrong.

Tauriel takes the three steps to the dinner table. She sits down in the chair that Bard had vacated. She bounces her foot nervously. She down the water in the glass. The chillness of the water shocks her a little out of her numb feeling. However, the water just makes the knot in her stomach worse. She stands and starts pacing. She picks at her nails as she walks. "Really don't want to talk about this," she mutters. "This was not how tonight was supposed to go." Everything with Bolg had disappeared. She keeps pacing. Time seems to run too slow and too fast at the same time. She has no idea how long Bard has been gone. They had been talking a lot – "And now I ruined it." She grumbles to herself, popping her knuckles.

"You haven't ruined anything." Bard's voice is quiet and more than a little sad.

Tauriel startles and turns.

Bard is leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed protectively across his chest. He is looking in Tauriel's direction, but not at her. His hair is significantly messier than it had been when he had left to put the kids to bed. His glasses almost look like they are precariously balanced on his face. While he was gone he also had gotten rid of his shoes. There is something about his disheveled appearance and bare feet that makes him look disarmingly young.

"Nothing's ruined," he repeats.

Bard pads over to the counter; his footsteps are quiet on the linoleum. He opens the cupboard and pulls a lowball glass from the top shelf. He moves quietly. He sets the cup down quietly; it makes no sound. He closes the cupboard before opening his freezer. He pulls out a few grey cubes and drops them in the glass. They clink loudly against the glass in the quiet kitchen. He walks to the other side of the kitchen, skirting around Tauriel, and opening the tall, skinny, corner cupboard. It takes him several extra seconds to open the door because of the child safety latch. Inside it are a handful of tall bottles with brightly colored labels. He pulls a bottle full of ambler liquid and a blue label from the cupboard before latching it. He skirts Tauriel again. He fills the glass with three fingers worth of the amber liquid. He pauses before putting the lid back on the bottle.

Bard makes eye contact with Tauriel for the first time since she asked about his wife. "I'm forgetting my manners. Would you like a glass?" He holds up the bottle – Tauriel can now read that it's label: whisky – in offering.

Tauriel shakes her head, not trusting herself to speak.

Bard leaves the bottle out. He picks up the glass and stares at the liquid, swirling it absently. He downs it all in one swig. His face twists in a grimace. He refills the glass immediately. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Bard sighs heavily through his nose. "I think we should have this conversation in the living room."

"Okay."

Tauriel follows Bard into the living room. He drops onto the couch, carefully holding his cup so that it does not spill. Tauriel sits down on the couch next to him. She sits down tensely, unable to be as boneless as Bard. She sits so that she faces him with her one foot hooked under her other leg.

Bard exhales loudly, "So." He frowns.

"We don't have to talk about it."

"No. I should – we should talk about it. It's been brought up. And it'll explain some stuff. This way it won't have to come out in small snippets. It's just really hard to talk about. I need this," Bard holds up the glass. "I used to need it often; needed it whenever I was reminded of her. Now, I don't need it. Memories are more like an ache from an old wound now. A twinge of pain that is almost like nostalgia now. But talking about it is still really hard."

Tauriel reaches out, places her hand on Bard's knee, and squeezes lightly. She wants to be reassuring, but cannot think of anything to say.

Bard takes a pull from his glass. He holds the glass by the rim with both hands; he slowly rotates the glass. "It's hard to know where to start really. It was all such a mess really." He looks down at his hands.

Tauriel follows his eyes and looks at his hands as well until he starts speaking.

"It started with Tilda's birth, but not really. It started before that as well, but it makes more sense to cover that later . . . After Tilda's birth Sarah – my wife – got postpartum depression. She was fine with Bain and Sigrid. None of us were watching for it. The doctor gave her pills for depression late in the pregnancy, but she refused to take them. She wasn't a big believer in them; she said she felt like the doctor was telling her that she was defective, that she wasn't good enough. We chalked it up to pregnancy hormones and all that jazz.

"It was a few months after Tilda was born that Sarah killed herself. We used to live only a few blocks from my parents, but I moved us out here for a new start. I needed to get away from the memories. I needed to get away so that I could forget that it was, at the very least, partially my fault."

"But it wasn't your fault," Tauriel says quietly.

"That's what I thought at first. But I couldn't stop reading articles about it online. I kept looking up symptoms list."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"I know I shouldn't have. I told myself that reading those articles wasn't going to help, that it was just going to make everything worse. But I couldn't help myself. But the more I read about it the more it became clear to me that there was definitely a lot I could have done."

Tauriel does not say anything, but she leaves her hand on Bard's thigh.

"Things were . . . difficult around Tilda's birth. And some of those articles said that financial stress can increase the changes of that disease. Sarah quit her job so she could stay at home with the kids while I worked. It made the most sense. The money she made was going straight into the hands of the childcare service. Her job wasn't really supplementing our income and someone else was raising our kids.

"Sarah was questioning if she had made the right decision. She wanted to go back to work. She was talking about it, but then she found out she was pregnant with Til. She wasn't planned and we weren't sure how were going to make ends meet. The mortgage and utilities on the house we had near my parents was keeping us just above broke.

"My mum was always about. Sarah and my mom never really got along. I don't think my mother ever thinks anyone is good enough or worth it. I really wish my parents had had other children. At the time, I was working at a community college on that side of town. They were having a financial crisis and they cut the entire studio art program. I lost my job at the worst time possible." Bard sighs heavily and shifts his position. He turns so that he's facing Tauriel more. After taking a drink, he pulls his one leg up onto the couch and balances his drink in the crook of his knee.

"By the time I was fired," he says bitterly. "Sarah couldn't find any work, even just your basic office work, because of her advanced pregnancy. We were burning through the savings that we had, not that we had much. We were stretched way too thin even after we cut back on everything we could cut back on. We were in real danger of losing our house."

"I was – I was spending a lot of time away from home. Being home made me feel like a failure. I spent a lot of time in the library; looking for jobs and reading anything that caught my eye. I was spending more time away from home then then when I was working. Even after Til was born I was never home. I left Sarah to be taken care of by my mother when I should have been there. I _really_ should have been home, but I wasn't.

"My mother told me that Sarah was depressed. I saw it to. I figured that, if she was, it was to be expected given the circumstances. Hell, I was probably depressed as well. I remember my mother telling me that it was probably the "baby blues" though. I figured she was probably right. Sarah had never had anything like that with Bain or Sig, but . . ." Bard shrugs. "I'm not a doctor, not a real one anyways. I didn't think that it was that bad. Sarah told me that my mother had talked to her about it as well. Said that my mother told her to "pull herself together" and "to get over herself". She basically made Sarah feel like she was a shite mom, like she wasn't capable to taking care of her own children."

Bard brings the glass to his lips and drinks. This time he drains the cup again, wincing a little. "One day, about a month or two after Tilda was born my mother took the kids. She said it was "to give Sarah some time to rest and get her act together." She said she called around supper time, but there was no answer. Said she figured that Sarah was sleeping. She didn't call me or let me know that she had the kids and that Sarah was home alone." He swallows. "I came home to a dark and empty house. I was worried because I didn't know where anyone was. Then I found Sarah in our bedroom. She looked like she was sleeping; that's when I figured that my mother had the kids. I remember feeling relieved that she was getting some uninterrupted sleep. I was – I went to lay down on the bed next to her and that's when I saw the bottle of anti-depressants on her bedside table. The lid was off. The doctor had prescribed them before the pregnancy. I'd forgotten that she even had them. She had refused to take them at the time and that was the end of that. I'd forgotten she had them . . . I called the police . . . but there was nothing they could do, she was already gone.

"Almost right afterwards I heard back from the university; they had a position and they wanted me to start right away. Another month and everything would have been all right. A few months later, we moved. I needed a new start and so did the kids. My mother's involvement is partially why we moved to the other side of the city rather than to a new place that was still close by. Our relationship never really recovered. My absence during that time makes her still believe that I'm not a completely fit parent." Bard scowls. "But why she thinks she could do any better at this point is ridiculous."

"I'm really sorry," Tauriel says softly.

"It's not your fault."

Tauriel looks at Bard. The dim room casts dark shadows across his face. She pulls him into a hug. Bard freezes – startled – before he cautiously hugs her back. He pulls her close – into his lap – and tighter to his chest. He breathes heavily against her next and pulls her crushingly close. They sit there for a long while; Bard rocking back and forth slightly with his face buried in her hair.

Tauriel presses herself close; savoring the warmth of Bard's body against her own. But, she also wracks her brain thinking of anything she can do to help. She wants to offer him more than just a hug.

"Where do you keep you hot beverages?"

"What?" Bard asks. His voice is thick.

"Hot beverages; tea, coffee, hot chocolate. My uncle always made me something hot to drink when I was upset."

"You don't have to make me a drink."

"I know, but I want to. Where do you keep them?"

"In the small cupboard over the stove."

"I'll be right back," Tauriel says as she clambers off Bard's lap.

"Alright."

It takes Tauriel a bit to find the mugs and make the hot water, but she is back soon enough. She is carrying an owl mug that is steaming. She presses into Bard's hands. "Hot chocolate."

"In an owl mug."

Tauriel frowns. "I thought it was cute. I can switch out mugs if you want."

"No, it's fine." Bard blows the steam from cup. When he drinks some of the steaming drink, his glasses fog up.

Tauriel watches him and resists the urge to push the hair that has fallen forward out of his face. He looks quite young and vulnerable. He does not look like the man that walked into the coffee shop almost two months ago.

Bard sighs and grips the mug with both hands. "So."

"So?"

"I've told you about one of the skeletons in my closet. It is only fair that you share at least one skeleton with me." Bard's lips quirk upwards in an attempted smile.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really," Bard smirks, but the smile that does not reach his eyes. It is sharply-edged with sadness. "Share your secrets about your large number of dearly departed dogs or something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [edited 01.18 11:42pm EST] - Movie canon, says that Bard's wife dies in childbirth. I'm going with movie canon/theories since that is where Tauriel exists. Luke Evans wrote a back story for Bard and says, "No one really talks about Bard's wife for what happened to her, but I created a whole storyline in my head. That Bard's wife died when Tilda was born, so my youngest has never met her mother." Anyways, death via childbirth doesn't really happen anymore, and if they do they aren't dark secrets, but suicides from postpartum depression do happen.
> 
> Postpartum depression is a serious disease that has a terrible stigma attached to it. Mothers who experience it are made to feel like they're bad mothers, etc. USA News reports that 9-19% of all mothers experience some level of postpartum depression (which is different from the "baby blues"). 5% of all women who have postpartum depression commit suicide. Postpartum depression is different from postpartum psychosis. 1 out of every 1000 women gets postpartum psychosis. 4% of these end of killing their children. Postpartum depression is a disease, new mothers can't just "snap out of it." Doing research for this chapter was incredibly sobering.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel tells Bard about Bolg.

Tauriel shifts uncomfortably. "I never had a dog."

"What? You were deprived as a child." Bard says; teasing.

"Your children don't have a dog."

"Off topic," Bard waves a hand.

"What makes you think I had a yard for a dog?"

Bard shrugs. "Any deep dark secrets to share? I've seen your cousin's hair; did you ever replace his shampoo with hair dye?"

"I never did that. However, Fi and Kili did that with purple dye once. Legolas wore a hat for over a month."

Bard smiles. This smile is less sharp and more genuine.

"I . . ." Tauriel swallows. "I do have something that it might be best for you know about though," Tauriel says quietly. She unconsciously cracks her knuckles.

Bard takes her hands in his own. He squeezes her hands gently a few times. "I'm listening."

Tauriel pulls one of her hands free and runs it nervously through her shoulder length red hair. "It's – this is going to be awkward."

"I saw my children born; trust me, nothing can be really awkward after that."

Tauriel laughs shortly and silently. "Awkward for me to say."

"I won't judge . . . at least I'll try not to."

"Thanks," Tauriel mumbles. She believes him, but is worried that what he said will not extend as far as she needs it to.

"It has to do with a previous boyfriend," Tauriel looks down at her hand that is still clasped in Bard's own. "Well, only previous boyfriend. His name was Bolg."

Bard nods encouragingly.

"I guess I should start at the beginning," Tauriel says haltingly. She sighs. "I joined the Guard right out of high school. Before boot camp, there is pre-boot camp training each Saturday and a few evenings during the week. We met there. He had already finished boot camp and was waiting for a permanent assignment. Since he had not been stationed yet, he was assigned to help with the training. We spent a lot of time together. We even had a little in common and we started seeing each outside of those training session.

"We never defined what we were. I went through boot camp and he pulled some strings and had be assigned to his command. That seemed good at the time. It kept me away from any active war zones; it kept me somewhat near home. I could have been stationed on the other side of the world. It all seemed fine at the time.

"And then it wasn't. I would try and talk about what we were and he would brush it off. Saying that there was no need or that he didn't want anything long distance and since we didn't know where I was going to be stationed we shouldn't even bother talking about it. Except, once all of those excuses were invalid, nothing changed. He would see other women and lie about it. He even went so far as to ask for advice about dating those other girls." Tauriel is looking down at her hands. She is almost too scared to look up. Too scared to look up and see pity, scorn, or contempt, things that she had seen far too often in the faces of her few friends, if they could even be called that, in the guard.

"I, for foolish and naive reasons, stayed and put up with it for much of my five years in the guard. In the end what really got to me was that fact that he would keep me from using my leave to see my family. I did once and he insisted on coming with me. I should have known better from how insistent he was. There were so many warning signs that I just ignored and overlooked. He made us leave early and he never left me alone with my family or friends. The entire 6 hour drive back to the base he complained about how stupid and all of my friends were. And, while listening to his rant, I somehow found myself agreeing with him. I guess that made it easier when he wouldn't let me go home to see them, but if I had wanted to see them more I might have left earlier."

Tauriel jumps when Bard reaches out and places his hand over hers on her thigh. She shifts away; out of Bard's reach. She does not want comfort right now. Rather, she wants it, but it feels terribly wrong to accept.

"It was early on in my fifth year that I decided that I had had enough. Fili and Kili had taken to writing me letters since I never came to see them. I would write back and for the first time in a long time I felt like I could say what I wanted without having to worry about upsetting Bolg. One day, after seeing me working on one of the letters while I was sitting at my desk job on the base, he broke into my room in the house I shared with a few others enlisted women on base. They let him in, but I had taken to keeping my door locked. When I got home that night my housemates were on their way out to the bar, none of them told me that Bolg was there. I tell myself that they must have forgotten or assumed that it was a surprise.

"I remember stopping when I saw that my door was slightly open. I thought about leaving the house and waiting until he left. But I didn't; I thought he might be there to apologize for his shitty behavior. When I opened the door I saw that he had torn my room apart. He was sitting in the middle of my bed with the letters from Fili and Kili surrounding him. All the letters had been pulled from their envelops and he was reading them. I confronted him; I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing." Tauriel stops as she chokes on the words. Bard shifts closer so he can take her hand. He holds it firmly and Tauriel does not try to pull away. He gently strokes the back of her hand with his thumb, but says nothing. He sits quietly waiting for her to continue speaking. She still looks down; not meeting his gaze.

"I think that was the first time that I ever yelled at him. I think it startled him 'cause he dropped the letter that he had been clutching. But it may not have been the best decision I ever made."

Bard's hand tenses over hers.

* * *

 

_"Who the hell are Fili and Kili," Bolg growls._

_"Friends of mine from high school! You met them when I went home for Christmas that one time." Tauriel snaps._

_"How long have you been writing letters to these ..._ boys _?" Bolg asks scathingly._

_"I dunno. For a while now."_

_Bolg rises; steps on the letters that lay scattered all over the beige carpet and takes a few steps towards her. "I don't want you talking to any other guys."_

_Tauriel refuses to step back. "They're just my friends."_

_"I. Don't. Like. It," Bolg snarls._

_"Why? It's not like I'm fucking them or anything!" Tauriel snarls back. "Not like those girls that you call your_ friends _."_

_Bolg takes several steps forward backing Tauriel up to the wall; menacing. "What are you talking about?" Bolg bites out._

_"You know what I'm talking about! All those nights that your busy and can't be bothered to do what you said you would do. I can't do this anymore! I want you to leave! For good."_

* * *

 

Tauriel stops talking and rubs at her eyes that are now burning as she remembers something she purposely tried really hard to forget. "He didn't like that," she says quietly. "He hit me –"

Bard's hand spasms.

"I ended up in the hospital. He took me and then left. I never really saw him after that. I went out of my way to avoid him."

"Didn't you report it?" Bard's voice is tight and low, like he is really trying not to shout.

Tauriel shakes her head. "Nothing really comes of it."

"My time ended before his did and . . ." Tauriel finally looks up to look at Bard's face; to gauge if she should bring up the letter or not. She was leaning towards not telling him since the letter was mostly just creepy and carried no threats. Sending a polite letter was probably as close to an apology as Bolg could get. Bard's jaw is clenched and his entire body is tense. His eyes are narrowed and he looks furious. His jaw keeps clenching and unclenching. His hand that is not holding hers is balled into a fist; his knuckles are white. "I haven't see him since."

"That fucking bastard." Bard bites out.

Tauriel nods. The burning in her eyes has become tears.

"Tauriel." Bard voice is softer, much less edged in anger. Bard cups her cheek in his hand, his thumb wiping away a tear that had started to run down her cheek.

"I'm sorry . . ." Tauriel says quietly. She wipes the tears from her other eye furiously.

"Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for," Bard assures her. He pulls her into a gentle hug. "That bastard deserves . . . I can't think of anything bad enough that he deserves.

"I would never do that, just so you know," Bard says quietly and awkwardly.

"I know," Tauriel nods.

"Good," Bard says quietly. "Do you want lay down?"

Tauriel nods.

Bard releases her from the hug. He shifts and lays down the couch, adjusting the pillow under his head. "Here," Bard says holding his arms out.

Tauriel lays down. Her head on Bard's chest. He warps one arm around her and pulls her close. His other hand tangles in her hair.

"I'm so sorry," Bard whispers. "I want to kill that bastard."

Tauriel does not say anything. She presses her face into Bard's soft flannel shirt and lets herself cry silently into his shirt while he strokes her hair softly.

As Tauriel listens to Bard's steady heartbeat she slowly falls asleep with her fingers tangled in his shirt.

* * *

A strange dream about not having her right arm woke Tauriel several hours later. Her arm was asleep. Bard is breathing heavily in her ear. She peered at the red light on the DVD player in the entertainment center. It was almost 4 a.m. They are in the same position that they had fallen asleep in. The afghan had been pulled down off the back of the couch and tucked around them. Tauriel is almost too warm between Bard's body heat and the thick warm red and white afghan. Tauriel shifts to move; to relieve the pressure from her sleeping right arm; and maybe to move them both upstairs to a bed that is much more comfortable. When she tries to sit up Bard's arm tightens around her, his fingers tighten in her hair, and he makes a small whine of protest in his sleep.

"Bard," Tauriel whispers.

"Hmmm…" Bard hums sleepily.

"Do you want to go upstairs?"

Bard makes a sleepy sound and rolls towards her; buries his face in her hair.

"Okay," Tauriel says quietly. She settles back in to sleep feeling a great deal safer than she has felt in a long time.


	18. Chapter 18

Bard had brought up Bolg once or twice since their conversation. Usually just to ask a question or to clarify something and she still had not told him about the letter. But It had been another two weeks and no further contact had been attempted. Work had been average; she had been reading quite a lot during the slow nights. Midterms were coming up and then students would be in the shop at all hours, or so she had been warned. When she mentioned to Bard that she had made it most of the way through her "to-be-read" list he had started bringing books with him for her to borrow.

Tauriel sits on a stool behind the counter with her feet propped up on the till where she can still keep a good eye on the door. A student had been in studying until almost 3 a.m. but they had not ordered anything beyond their original coffee and a refill around 2 a.m. Other than that she had been free to continue reading the latest book that Bard had lent to her. He had rather eclectic tastes; the previous volume had been a classic text that she vaguely remembered being discussed in an English course and then this one was a thriller that involved a virus killing off most of the world's population. He had only given it to her at the beginning of the week and she was nearly done with it and it was only Wednesday. She had texted him earlier saying that she was hoping that he had another book picked out for her. He had offered to let her pick some from his library the last time that she had been in his house but she had declined. She preferred the surprise and liked seeing what he thought she would like. So far the only book that had not been to her taste was a modern mystery novel, but she had not expected to like it. When she told Bard what she thought of it he said he had given it to her just to get an idea of things she did not like; he had not expecting for her to really care for that book.

Her phones buzzes on the counter. She looks down at the screen; it is a picture message from Bard. _/ Someone doesn't want to get up… /_ Above the text is a picture of Tilda's messy hair – so like her father's – and above it is Bard's brown eyes and raised eyebrows and his own messy hair. Tauriel snorts in amusement. She picks up the phone and types one handed.

_/ I see two someones that don't want to get up. /_

Bard's response is almost immediate. _/ You're 100% right. /_

_/ Maybe some coffee will help? /_

_/ It definitely will! That and the good company. And some kisses? /_

_/ I'm pretty sure it's against the rules, but I'll see what I can do ;) /_

_/ Looking forward for your attempts! BTW I've got your next book picked out. /_

_/ Hint? /_

_/ No. It's got to be a surprise. /_

_/ -_- /_

_/ I really must get up now. I'll see you in about an hour after I drop the kids off. XO /_

_/ See you then. /_

Tauriel slides her phone back into her pocket. And goes back to reading. The exchange itself only took a few minutes.

Reading helps the slow tick of the clock move faster. Each shift seems to get longer. Her mind wanders more and more and she gets bored more quickly. The books help with that though. Even then, though, she finds herself staring at the dark green and brown walls absently counting the seconds until Bard shows up or the seconds until she can lay down in her bed and sleep again. Right now she is engrossed in this thriller. The bell on the door rings. She glances up at the clock; it is far too early for Bard, or at least it feels that way. It's just past 4:30. It is then she looks towards the door and drops her book on the floor.

"What are you doing here?" It comes out more like a gasping squeak than she would like it to. She wishes it sounded angrier, tougher, anything except scared which is what she was.

"Now that's not a very nice way to greet me, Darling." He grins. It is lopsided from a scar that he had not had the last time Tauriel saw him.

Tauriel wants to stand; she is nearly as tall as he is when she stands up straight, but she doubts that her legs will hold her. She grits her teeth to stop her shaking from rage and fear. "What. The. Fucking. Hell. Are. You. Doing. Here," she asks as firmly as she can manage. It still sounds scared and shaky rather than biting and fierce like she wants it to be.

Bolg sits down at the bar. Tauriel notices with relief that it was not where Bard usually sits. "I just want to chat. There's no reason to be mean and unfriendly about it."

"Fine. Talk."

Bolg rolls his eyes. "As charming as ever."

Tauriel turns and puts her feet on the ground. She leaves the book where it fell with its spine splayed wide. She swallows thickly. Just breathing almost makes her feel like she is choking. She sighs – she is surprised that any breath comes out at all – to try and breath deeper. "Fine. What are you doing here?" She forces herself to be more polite even though she can feel herself chaffing and highly irritated that he has already made her do something that she did not want to do.

"As I just said. I just wanted to chat since I am back in the area." Bolg crosses his arms and leans forward amicably on the counter. His t-shirt stretches over his chest and arms. He is not wearing a jacket against the cool October air.

Tauriel remains out of reach as she moves. "I'm fine. I've been better since I left the Guard."

Bolg smiles; Tauriel shivers. "I think everyone feels better once they get out of the Guard. I've been feeling a lot better since I got out. I think it's all the free time."

Tauriel scowls. She feels a tiny bit better when she feels her face do what she wants it to do. "That's not what I meant," she snaps. "I meant that it's nice to be –"

"I know what you meant," Bolg interrupts. "I've seen you around with your new beau."

Cold rushes over Tauriel's body. Her face feels numb.

"Come now, don't look at me like that." Bolg chastises. "I've seen him around. I've also seen that he's a college professor; you've sure moved up in the world."

Tauriel grips the edge of her seat. Her knuckles crack under the strain.

"What do you know about it?"

Bolg's smiles disappears immediately. "I know enough."

"What?"

"I've seen the two of you two together and you seem quite . . . comfortable . . . together."

The metal of the seat digs into Tauriel's fingers. She cannot will herself to loosen her grip on the chair. "When."

"Here," Bolg states simply. "In the mornings. And," he glances at his watch, "if my watch is correct he'll be here any minute now."

Tauriel clenches her teeth. She forces herself from the stool, scooping up the book from the floor as she moves, and moving to stand in front Bolg. She crosses her arms, the book clenched in her fist. "I want you to leave."

Bolg sits back; his eyes widen. "Why?"

"I don't want you here."

"I'm at work. I want you to leave. I don't want to see you. Get out."

"I'm not leaving until we set up a time to meet."

Tauriel leans her head back to stare at the ceiling. "Good fucking god," she mutters. "Fine. If I agree to meet with you will you get the _fuck_ out?"

Bolg smiles charmingly; his scare makes it a bit unnerving. "Yes."

"Fine. When and where do you want to meet?"

"Here on Saturday afternoon?"

"Absolutely not."

"Were do you want to meet then?"

"At the Lonely Mountain pub on the other side of town. Friday at 1."

"That sounds good to me." Bolg stands. "I'll see you then."

As Bolg is leaving Bard is coming in. Bolg even holds the door open and smiles at Bard. Tauriel's stomach twists.

Bard slides into his now customary seat at the counter. He pulls a thick volumes from his back and sets it down heavily on the table. "I think this one will keep you occupied for more than a few days. At this rate you might go through my entire library in a few weeks if I don't slow you down a bit." He smiles until he sees her eyebrows knit together in worry as she stares at the door that had just slammed shut in the wind. "What's wrong?"

Tauriel shakes her head as if being roused from deep thoughts and instantly decides not to . "Nothing wrong. They guy that left when you came in was being . . . odd." She clenches and unclenches her fists to get the blood to move through her fingers again. They begin to warm.

Bard turns to look through the glass window to see if he can catch sit of the odd fellow, but he has no such luck. Bard has already forgotten when the man looked like except for the fact that he was tall. He had been focused on this book that he had selected. "Did he give you any trouble?"

"No," Tauriel shakes her head, thankful that her legs have steadied now that Bolg is gone. "He was just odd, not unpleasant." She declines mentioning that it was Bolg out of not wanting to cause alarm. Bolg had been overly polite and odd, but not threatening. Maybe all he wanted and wants is to talk. Maybe he really wants to clear the air and be done with it. Things had ended messily as he said. Nothing about the break had been clean; he still had some of her belongings but she had replaced what she needed long ago rather than asking for the items back.

Tauriel sits down next to Bard once she has his drink made. She leans her head on his shoulder. Bard wraps his arm around her shoulders and squeezes.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Tauriel nods.

"Good!"

Tauriel cannot help but smile at the cheerfulness in Bard's voice.

"Now, tell me what you thought about the book before I hand over this monstrous tome."


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel spends some time with Sigrid and Tilda.

Tauriel had watched the door nervously as it neared 4a.m. on Friday morning. It had been even quieter than normal for the hours that it was. She had been on edge since Wednesday. She was fidgety and in a bad mood. She was not going to meet with Bolg. She had agreed out of desperation. She knew that he would not leave until he got that agreement so she had just given him what he wanted. She had been extra vigilant when walking home from work; she had been taking longer, circuitous routes and had taken a different one each day on the way to work and on the way home. There had been no new cars on her street nor had she seen any one new in the area. She had not even heard phantom footsteps while she was out. Tauriel knows that he knows where she lived, but she can always hope that he has forgotten and she does hope that he has forgotten or that he had never been there at all. He could have just asked around the area and found one of the neighborhood kids to deliver it for him. The roads in the area were tricky and badly marked; it was part of the reason that she had chosen the place that she had. She liked the anonymity that it offered.

All she was worried about now was that he would show up to the shop again. She had started looking for other jobs that were within walking distance, but that would take time and she was worried that he would start showing up regularly before she could find another job. She was particularly worried about this morning. She had already talked to her boss about switching shifts so that she would never be alone in the shop. He had told her that it might be a week or so before he could find someone to cover the night shift. Until then she made sure her phone was charged and she made herself practice the emergency number without looking just in case she needed to dial it while the phone was in her pocket. The problem was that Bolg would have to do something that was worth calling the police about. Being creepy was not a police matter and there was very little the police could do about stalking until things took a physical turn. The event while she was in the Guard had been a MP matter and it had been handled (or not handled as was the case most of the time in cases like this) internally. That record would be sealed unless there was enough cause to unseal it for an external matter and even then it was a tricky process.

The book lies unopened in her backpack behind the counter. She could not focus on the words on the page. She just wanted to get off work and go home. Go for a walk. The shop with its large glass windows looking out into the dark night feels like a cage. Cars and people passing by can see in, but she cannot see them. Tauriel has been resisting the urge to pace back and forth and check the time all night.

5 a.m. comes and the door opens. It is not Bolg's broad frame, blonde hair, and scars. It is Bard wearing a rumpled cream sweater and tweed pants with his hair all askew from the wind, and his bag slung over his shoulder. He pauses when he sees Tauriel visible relax at his appearance.

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"Just you." Tauriel climbed over the counter. She walks up to Bard and wraps her arms around his waist.

Bard hugs her back with one arm; his right hand still holding his bag back. "What did I do to deserve this?" He asks; puzzled.

"I just missed you," Tauriel says quietly while lacing her fingers together behind his back.

Bard lays his cheek against the top of her head. "I missed you, too?"

Tauriel smiles and presses herself closer to him.

"Not that this hug isn't nice, but I kind of need coffee this morning. It's going to be a long day."

"Alright," Tauriel squeezes him before letting go of him and climbing back over the counter to pour him a cup from the pot she had started a few minutes before his arrival. "Why is it busy? Lots of grading? Meetings?"

"Nothing like that," Bard replies before taking the white mug from Tauriel's hands. He smiles at her. He waits until she sits down before continuing. "I've got two of my undergrad seminars this morning and the three hour grad seminar in the afternoon. I have to leave the grad seminar early because Bain has a doctor's appointment."

"Is something wrong?"

"Nah," Bard shakes his head with the cup raised to lips. He sighs after taking a long drink. "Just a rash. He gets them a lot, but the general treatment isn't working so I'm taking him in. I wouldn't have to leave early except that it goes past the time that I pick the girls up from the sitters. I have to pick up them and Bain and take them to my parents' house before taking Bain to the doctor's. It's just so much extra driving and work for an appointment. I wouldn't do it normally, but if it wasn't know we'd have to wait three more weeks or so for another opening."

"Is there anything I can do to help? I'm free after I get off at 6 and take a nap."

Bard pauses and looks at her thoughtfully. "Actually, I think you can help."

Tauriel forward; her chin resting in the palm of her hand. "How?"

"If you can get to my house that would be wonderful. The sitter isn't far from there – maybe a mile walk – I can pick them up from there and drop them off if I need to, but if you could watch them . . . ?"

"I can do that. I can pick them up too if that would be best; I'll just need the address."

"That would be fantastic," Bard's face breaks into a relieved smile. "Here, let me get a piece of paper and I'll write the address down." Bard reaches down into his briefcase to get a pen and a piece of paper.

"What time should I be there?" Tauriel asks as she takes the piece of paper and looks at the address.

"I usually pick them up around 4," Bard says. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Tauriel nods. "I want to help, plus I need to get out of my house I've been going a bit crazy staying in my house all week."

"You know you can come over whenever you want?"

"I don't want to intrude . . ." Tauriel mumbles.

Bard leans close brushing his nose against her cheek. "You wouldn't be intruding. I swear. I love having you around." He presses a kiss to her cheek – she blushes – before he sits back to drink some more of his coffee.

"But you have work and stuff to do."

"I try to get most of it done while I'm on campus. If I did have work though you could just sit in the office while I'm working and read."

Tauriel nods understandingly, "I might come by, but with my schedule I can't really come by during the week."

Bard makes a 'hrmph' sound in the back of his throat. "Excuses. Excuses," he chides good naturedly.

"Anyways," Tauriel says, changing the subject. "What should I do with Tilda and Sigrid?"

Bard looks at her, not understanding what she meant at first.

"Anything," Bard says. "Except eat them."

"That is," Tauriel pauses, "less than helpful." She frowns.

"I'm sorry. They'll probably mostly just occupy themselves. I try not to let them watch more than an hour of TV so if you could enforce that that would be great. Other than that," Bard shrugs. "If you want to play games or do craft the girls know where those are. I recently bought some supplies to make some Halloween decorations; paper plate black cats, cotton ball ghosts, pumpkin rocks, clothes pin bats and the like."

"I can probably handle making cotton ball ghosts and the bats. I think I remember making those in primary school."

"Crafts haven't changed all that much."

"What time do you think you'll be back?"

"Probably around 5 or 6 depending on traffic and the wait at the doctor's office. I'll probably bring home some take or something." He looks down at his watch, "I need to get going. I'll see you tonight? I assume you'll be staying for dinner at least. Oh. And I'll call the sitter to let her know that you'll be picking up the girls."

Tauriel nods. "I'll see you then." They exchange a hug before Bard leaves. Tauriel clocks out when Legolas and the other person that works the morning shift arrives. She takes a new route home that takes almost twice as long as the most direct way, but she sees nothing out of the ordinary.

* * *

 

The alarm that blares form her phone wakes Tauriel up at just after three in the afternoon. She startles when she sees the time. She had set an alarm for one as well. She had wanted to be awake to keep watch, just in case Bolg actually knew where she lived. This alarm was just a backup, an alarm for getting ready to go pick up Bard's girls. She freezes; listening. The house is quiet except for the whistling of the wind around the corners of the small house. She rolled out of her bed, slipped on her boots, and walked quietly to the door. She peers out the window before opening the front door to check the mailbox. Nothing. She grabs her keys locking the door and does a quick walk around of her house and the block. Nothing out of the ordinary. Tauriel ignores her neighbor when the old woman gives her a funny look looking pointedly at her baggy flannel pajama bottoms. Everything is normal. The girls down the street are playing with dolls in their front yard; their little dog yaps at her when she walks past. Everything is quiet; the only sound is the scuttling of dry leaves blowing across the pavement and the low chattering of children's voices.

Fifteen minutes later she is standing at the bus stop with a backpack slung over her shoulder. Her phone was stuffed in the pocket of her grey hoodie. She had already put the address that Bard had given her in her phone. She was still a bit nervous about entertaining Tilda and Sigrid for a few hours, but if all else failed she could let them watch television for part of the time.

Tauriel knocks on the door of the babysitter's house a few minutes before for. The door was wrenched open within seconds. Sigrid's face falls into a scowl when she sees Tauriel standing on the doorstep.

"What are you doing here? Where's my dad?"

"Sigrid, that's no way to talk to anyone." A middle-aged woman with greying hair pulled back into a bun pushes Sigrid out of the door way. She smiles at Tauriel. "You must be – Tauriel, is it? – Bard called this morning and said that you would be picking them up."

"Yeah," Tauriel reaches to shake the woman's hand. "And you are?"

"I'm Beth," the woman smiles. "Come in while the girl's get their shoes and socks on."

Tauriel steps into the hall and shuts the door behind her.

Beth stands with her arms crossed. "Why isn't Bard here to pick them up? He said he had to go teach class so he did not have time to explain."

"Uh…" Tauriel is not sure if she should answer that question. She's not sure how much Bard would want this woman to know. He must trust her because she watches his kids, but that does not mean he gives her details about his personal life. "Bain had a doctors appointment."

"How long have you known Bard?"

Tauriel looks at Beth out of the corner of her eye. It is an odd question. "About three months."

"Are you dating?"

Tauriel shifts from one foot to the other. She looks at Sigrid and Tilda and wonders why they cannot put their shoes and coats on any faster. "We're friends. He just wanted me to pick up the girls because it would make his life easier."

Beth nods.

"Tauriel!" Tilda tugs on the strap of Tauriel's backpack.

Tauriel drops to a crouch. "Yes, Miss Tilda?"

"Did you bring us any surprises in your bag?" Tilda's cheeks are pink and round.

Tauriel shakes her head. "I'm afraid not, but you dad said that there were crafts at your house that we can make."

Tilda's eyes light up. "Crafts! What sort of crafts?" Tilda asks excitedly.

"He said we could make ghosts, pumpkins, and bats."

"I like ghosts!"

Tauriel smiles and looks up at Sigrid who is sulking. "Do you have any of those you really want to make?"

Sigrid scowls. "I don't want to make any crafts. They're stupid and for babies."

Tauriel frowns. "Oh." She stands. "It's time to go."

"Good luck," Beth says with a smile as Tauriel herds the two girls out the door.

* * *

 

Bard walks in the door with Bain a few minutes before six. His arms are full of a few grocery bags.

"Da!" Tilda wraps herself around Bard's legs.

"Hi, Til. Can you move for a moment? I need to put these groceries away."

"But, Da…" Tilda whines. "I want to show you where we put the ghosts and bats."

"In a moment," Bard tries to walk down the hall to the kitchen and break Tilda's death grip on his leg.

"But…"

"Tilda, wait," Bard says more sharply. "Can you carry this?" He holds out the gallon of milk to Tilda. She takes the milk; her enthusiasm a bit dampened as she follows her father into the kitchen.

Tilda pushes the milk into the fridge. "Now, dad?"

Bard laughs softly. "Just a few more minutes, dear. Let me talk to Tauriel for a minute."

Tilda sticks her bottom lip out in a pout, but wanders into the hallway.

Bard turns to Tauriel and heaves a heavy sigh. "How were they?"

"They were good," Tauriel says, deciding to leave out Sigrid's grumpy behavior.

Bard's smile is dazzling. "I'm glad."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MP = Military Police


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween! And other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… This was quite a wait… My last semester in my M.A. program murdered me and I’m still not finished with it yet, but it’s only the paper that’s left and it’s basically finished, I just need to do some more research and do some deep editing.

_/ Ready? /_ Tauriel’s phone buzzing on the nightstand wakes her up from her light sleep.

_/ ? /_

Bolg had not resurfaced in the week and a half since she was supposed to meet him. On Monday she was starting the morning shift and then she might start looking for a new house to rent. If it was too far away she might dip into her savings account to buy a car. She had been avoiding touching the money that she had accumulated while in the service. She had had little use for it while she was in the Guard.

_/ To be picked up? /_

_/ ??? /_

_/ Trick-or-treating? I thought I asked you about it…” /_

Tauriel groans and buries her face in her pillow. She had most definitely forgot about trick-or-treating with Bard and the Bardlings. All she wants to do right now is to pull her blankets over her head and fall back into the warm cocoon of sleep.

_/ You did. I just forgot. /_

_/ Are you still up for it? /_

Tauriel frowns at her phone. _/ How soon? /_

She forces herself to sit up while she waits for a reply. She pads over to her closet and stares desolately at his contents while wondering what could possibly work as a costume. There was no way that Tilda would let her get away with not wearing a costume.

_/ About an hour. Tilda still has her dance class. /_

_/ Yeah. I’ll be ready. /_

_/ See you then!_ _J_ _/_

Tauriel tosses her phone onto the bed before she resuming staring into her closet looking for anything that might count as a costume. It is too late to run out to a store and get anything. She frowns as she shifts items from one side of the closet to the other. In the back, behind all her heavy sweaters, was a hanger with black trash bag covering the items. She lifts the bag to see her uniform from the guard hanging there. She rubs the rough cloth between her fingers. She had forgotten that it was here. She thought she had left all of those items boxed up in the attic of Thranduil’s garage. She pulls it out of the closet. It will have to do because there’s nothing else for it.

Her skin crawls when it comes in contact with the material that’s be designed to disrupt heat signatures. She had taken a job in the coffee shop largely because there was no uniform component. The uniform feels far too familiar and restrictive. After tucking the laces into her boots she pauses to look at her reflection in the mirror. Her boots are scuffed and her hair is too short to be put into the regulation bun, but it is those details that make this okay, that make her feel normal while wearing this uniform, but she still feels nauseous. Tauriel’s frown turns into a scowl. She starts to unbuckle her belt and untuck the grey t-shirt. She can’t. She can’t do this. She cannot wear this uniform even as a costume.

Her phone buzzes.

_/ Hope you have a costume! Tilda won’t stop trying to guess. Bet you can guess what she’s going to be. /_

_/ A princess? /_

_/ If I tell you she might strangle me from behind while I'm driving. /_

Tauriel smiles; she can almost hear his laugh in the words. She looks down at her half-removed uniform. She sighs and tucks her shirt back in. She’ll do it for Tilda. She stuffs her phone into her pocket before grabbing the uniform’s jacket and making her way downstairs.

* * *

“Nice costume,” Bard smiles when he picks her up. “I’m afraid that mine doesn’t look nearly as good.”

“What is yours?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says cheekily as he puts the car in gear.

Tauriel snorts and tucks her keys and wallet into the cargo pockets up her pants.

“What are you being?” Tilda asks from the back seat as she swings her legs.

Tauriel twists in her seat before answering. “I’m a soldier.” She puts the uniform cap on Tilda’s head, covering her eyes.

“Isn’t that for boys?” Tilda shoves the cap upwards so she can see.

“It is. But it’s also for girls.”

Tilda seems to consider this for a moment. “But what do soldiers do.”

Tauriel does not answer right away. She had not thought out how to explain the job in a child friendly way that was also exciting. “Mostly you do what other people tell you and you keep people safe.”

“Like a policeman!” Tilda says brightly. “That’s what Bain is going to be.”

“Yes, close enough.” Tauriel turns to face the front of the vehicle again. “If Bain is a policeman then what are you?”

“It’s a surprise!” Tilda says. “Da and I planned it!”

Tauriel looks back again. “Is it from one of your favorite movies?”

“Don’t tell her, Til. It’ll ruin the surprise.” Bard interrupts Tilda, who was about to speak.

“Da’s right. It’s a surprise.”

“I guess I’ll just have to wait then.”

Tilda smiles radiantly and nods.

“What’s your sister going to be? Or is that also a surprise.”

“Sig’s going to be a nurse. She has green ‘crubs. She even has a thing that lets her listen to hearts.”

“Does she listen to your heart with it?” Tauriel inquires.

“Sometimes. She practices on my dolls more.”

Bard reaches over and squeezes Tauriel’s knee affectionately. Tauriel turns to look at him. “What was that for?” she asks quietly.

Bard smiles gently. “Nothing,” he says, but squeezes her knee again. 

* * *

“Aren’t you going to get candy?” Tilda asks Tauriel as they stand in the front yard waiting for Bilbo and Frodo. Dusk was already falling and the shadows cast by the trees and houses are long.

“Does your dad get candy when you trick-or-treat?”

“No,” Tilda admits. “He always take some from me, Bain, and Sig. But you don’t have any kids to steal from.”

Tauriel smiles as the mental image of Bard swiping chocolate from his children’s pumpkin shaped buckets. “I don’t need any candy.” She leans down to whisper conspiratorially, “Can you keep a secret?”

Tilda’s eyes go wide and she nods her head emphatically.

“I might steal some from you dad if I need any.”

Tilda giggles at that and slips her hand into Tauriel’s. Sigrid sits on the stop reading a book while Bain paces back and forth on the sidewalk looking for his friend. They were all sent outside so Bard could put on his secret costume.

Tauriel squeezes Tilda’s slightly sweaty hand. “How long does it take your father to get ready.”

“Forever,” Tilda says drawing the word out.

The door behind them bangs shut. “How do I look?”

Tauriel and Tilda both turn to look at Bard who is standing on the front stoop with his arms spread wide. Tauriel stifles a laugh. Bard is wearing a purple wizards hat trimmed with silver and decorated with the moon and stars. His ankle length purple robe is much the same. He waggles his eyebrows at Tilda who giggles.

“You look just like a wizard!” Tilda rushes forward and wraps herself around her father’s legs, knocking her pink pointy princess hat askew.

“Just like you wanted,” he smiles at his daughter and fixes her hat.

“That is quite a costume,” Bilbo says coming through he garden gate. He is accompanied by Frodo, but the boy is already deep in conversation with Bain. Bilbo’s only nod to a costume is his jester’s hat.

“What? No costume for you this year?” Bard laughs.

Bilbo comes closer before answering. “Frodo didn’t want me to do a costume. He said that it would embarrass him. I figured I would just go for a hat this year.”

Bard snorts. “Lame. I’m sure Bain finds me embarrassing, but Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. I’m not going to not enjoy it just because my son’s friends might think I’m weird.”        

“At least this year I don’t have to worry about tripping on a dress,” Bilbo looks pointedly at the long purple robe.”

“It’s not a dress!” Tilda protests. “It’s a wizards robe!”

“I guess you’re right,” Bilbo addresses Tilda. “A dress is supposed to make you pretty and your da kinda looks like a troll.”

Tilda frowns. “Is mine a dress?” she asks with concern.

“Of course it is! You’re the most beautiful princess that I’ve ever seen.”

Tilda smiles but drifts away to join the boys who seem to be debating about whether firemen or policemen are better. Frodo keeps having to push his firemen’s helmet up as it slips down to cover his eyes. His brown curly hair sticks out from under the edges of the bright red helmet.

“You looks sharp.” Bilbo says to Tauriel.

“Thanks. I forgot about it and had no time to go find a real costume.”

“You fit right in with Bain and Frodo.”

Tilda drifts back over to the adults. “Can we go yet? It’s almost dark and you said we could go when it was almost dark.” Tilda looks longingly at the other children in costumes that she sees drifting down their street followed by adults if they’re small.

“I guess you’re right.” Bard says. He raises his voice so the other children can hear him. “Off we go!”

The children cheer and rush out of the garden gate.

“Don’t get too far ahead.” Bilbo warns them.

“Ready?” Bard asks Tauriel with a wink.

Tauriel rolls her eyes. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Bard smiles when she takes his hand and the start down the sidewalk after the children and Bilbo.

* * *

Bard lounges on the couch watching his children sort through their candy. He had told them they could only have a few pieces each before bed, but he most definitely sees more than a few pieces find their ways into the children’s mouths. He was still wearing the wizard’s hat, but he had discarded the robe as soon as they walked through the front door. He had tripped on the hem several times throughout the evening.

Tauriel sits with him. She leans against him and watches the children tear into their candy. “I never actually went trick-or-treating before,” she admits to Bard.

“What?!” he turns his head to look at her. “Really?”

“It’s true. My uncle’s house isn’t exactly surrounded by other houses. He always threw a party instead of taking us somewhere to go trick-or-treating. And he certainly rationed the candy to us. Half of it was always sugar-free.”

Bard winces, “Ew.”

“I know,” Tauriel laughs. It was always the luck of the draw whether we’d get the good stuff when he passed it out. The only good thing about it was that it made our Halloween candy last until Christmas.”

“This stuff won’t even make it until next weekend,” Bard assures her gesturing at the candy strewn all over the living room floor.

“They don’t get sick?”

“I’ve told them that if they get sick from eating too much of it at a time that the rest of goes to me.”

“That’s a good threat.”

“It’s worked so far.”

The two sit on companionable silence as the Sigrid and Bain argue over how many Tootsie Rolls a box of Milk Duds is worth. Bard puts his arm around Tauriel and pulls her close. She rests her head on his chest; she can hear his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Bard asks. His voice rumbles in his chest.

“Nothing,” Tauriel presses closer. “Why?”

“Family tradition is that we watch scary movies on the actual 31st. You can join.”

“That sounds fun,”

Bard smiles. “Is there any special movie snack you want? I have to go to store in the morning to get popcorn anyway.”

“Popcorn is fine with me.”

“Are you sure?” Bard asks, stretching.

Tauriel nods.

“Alright, now that that’s a plan. I should probably drive you home. I’d like to get these rascals to bed at a semi-reasonable time tonight.”

* * *

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Tauriel says before shutting the car door firmly. The two had exchanged a kiss before she got out of the car. A kiss that had been met with a “gross” from Bain. Sigrid and Tilda were asleep in the backseat. Bard honks twice as he before he pulls away and down the road.

Tauriel pulls her jacket tighter around her body. The air wind had picked up and it had a bitter chill to it. She stuffs her small bag of candy into her pocket as she fumbles for her keys. She smiles to herself as she shuts the gate and turns to open her door. Only … something is not right. She freezes. It takes her a few moments to process what she is seeing because her vision blurs and narrows as her heartrate accelerates. Once she has had that moment she turns and moves quickly away from the door. She almost drops her keys in her hurry to pull out her phone. The door is slightly ajar and the window next to the door is broken.

Tauriel manages to dial 911 even though she is not looking at her phone. She is staring at the door watching. She nervously looks around trying to make sure that no one was sneaking up behind her.

_“911. What is your emergency?”_

“Someone’s broken into my house.” Tauriel can barely get the words out.

_“What is the address?”_

Tauriel blanks for a few moments before she can list off of her address.

_“Are they still in the house?”_

“I don’t know.”

_“Where are you?”_

“I’m outside, on the other side of the street.”

_“Are you injured?”_

“No.”

_“Officers will be there in less than 10 minutes.”_

“Thank you.”

_“Stay on the line with me until they get there.”_

Tauriel nods before remembering to answer verbally. “Okay.”

She waits nervously for a few nerve wracking minutes listening to the 911 operator and answering questions on autopilot until she can see the lights and hear the sirens. The call ends and Tauriel quickly texts Legolas; her stomach is twisting uncomfortably. She cannot decide if she feels like she’s about to be sick or if she is going to fall down she feels so faint.

_/someones broken in to my house can you come /_

She knows that he is probably up. The only problem would be if he was at a party with his friends and was unable to drive. She taps her foot nervously and paces in an effort to keep herself from being sick or fainting. The flashing blues from two police cars wash over the street casting everything in a surreal light.

Everything after that happens in a blur. One of the officers pulls her out of the way, away from the commotion while others went in to her home. The young cop with blonde hair and a neatly trimmed goatee that pulled her aside is asking her questions, but she cannot focus enough to hear them. She just stares at the door of her home and the lights and movement that she can see inside. She shakes her head when she hears the police officer, Officer B. MacThelion according to his name tag, asking more questions.

“Sorry,” Tauriel says quietly as she tears her attention away from her home and the bits of glass on her front step that flash eerily in the light of the police cars. She crosses her arms across her chest protectively as she shivers from the cold and the situation.

The officer nods. “What’s your name?”

“Tauriel Oropherion.”

“Was there anyone at home when this occurred?”

Tauriel shakes her head. “No. I was out and no one else lives here.”

“When were you last here?”

Tauriel tips her head back trying to remember what time Bard had picked her up.

“A rough estimate is okay if you cannot remember the exact time,” the officer assures her.

“Mid-afternoon, maybe?” Tauriel ventures.

“Did you have the doors and windows locked when you left?”

“I never leave them unlocked.”

The officer looks up from his notepad at her. “Are you sure that you locked them this time?”

“Of course I did!” Tauriel snaps even while she frantically tries to remember whether or not she had locked the door. She must have. If it had been unlocked why would the window be broken. “There’s the automatic lock even if I forget to turn the deadbolt.”

“What time did you arrive at home?”

“Maybe twenty minutes ago? I just got back.”

“Did you see anyone?”

Tauriel shakes her head, “No one.”

“Where there any unusual cars that drove past? Or have there been any unusual cars in the area?”

“No. There have been no new cars. I’ve been watching.”

The officer glances up at her and raises an eyebrow but does not comment on her answer. “How long did you wait to call emergency services?”

“I called immediately.”

“You mentioned that you are the only person who lives here. How long have you lived here?”

“About six months. It’ll be seven months in a week or two.”

“Do you have a security system?”

“No, I didn’t think I’d need one.”

“Have you hired any repairmen lately or anyone else who might have been inside your home recently?”

“I called a landlord a few weeks back about fixing a tap that wouldn’t stop leaking, but he came by and fixed the leak himself.”

“Do you know who might have done this?”

Tauriel swallows thickly, but she nods.

“Who is it?”

“He’s uh… he’s an ex-boyfriend. His name is William Azog, but he also goes by Bolg.”

The officer nods. “How long have you two been separated?”

“Over a year.”

He looks up at that. “Why do you think he might have cause to break into your house?”

“Because he’s . . .,” she pauses and forces herself to take a deep breath even though her chest feels constricted, it takes more effort than it should have and it only serves to make her even more faint, rather than steadier. “Our history,” she licks her lips. “It wasn’t good. He was violent and possessive towards the end and I recently started seeing someone else.”

“You said he is violent. Have your previously filed any charges against him?”

“No. I . . . We were both in the Guard for the duration of the relationship and...” she trails off and waves her hand ineffectually when she cannot think of how to explain it.

“You said you had been watching for unusual cars. Was it because of this William Azog that you mentioned?”

“He came to see me at my place of work and . . . it made me nervous so I started watching for anything out of the ordinary.”

“How long ago was that?”

“A couple weeks now.”

“Has he contacted you since then?”

Tauriel shakes her head. “He hasn’t which is part of what makes me think that he may be behind this.”

Another officer approaches. His long blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail and his beard is neatly tripped, Officer E. Éadig.

“The house is clear. We saw no other signs of disturbance beyond the broken window on the front door. We’ll have our team gather fingerprints. But, unless you see anything missing when we do a walk through with you, I think it was just a Halloween prank. Probably just some of the boys in the neighborhood getting into trouble.”

Officer MacThelion frowns, but he does not speak to contradict the other officer. “Maybe it would be better to do the walkthrough in the morning when Miss Oropherion is less shaken,” he suggests.

The officer with the ponytail turns to face Tauriel. “Would that be better?” He face is fierce even though it is clear that he is not trying to be intimidating.

Tauriel nods fiercely. The thought of having to look at her belongings to see if anything is missing right now, especially of Bolg has been rifling through her things, sounds terrifying.

“Do you have anyone you can stay with?” Officer Éadig asks, “At least until you get the window replaced.”

“My uncle, only . . . he’s probably asleep already and I have no way of getting there.” Tauriel frowns and looks down at her phone to see if Legolas as replied yet – nothing.

The two men exchange a look. A question was clearly involved when Officer Éadig nods sharply.

Officer MacThelion turns back to face Tauriel. “An officer can give you a ride, if you would like.”

Tauriel exhales heavily in relief, “That would be immensely helpful.”

“Alright. Do you need anything from inside your home before?”

Tauriel shoves her phone and her hands deep into the pockets of her camouflage trousers. “No.”

“Alright then,” Officer Éadig says, closing the open notebook that he was holding in his head. Officer MacThelion will be giving you a ride to your uncle’s home. What’s his name and address?”

“Thranduil Oropherion, 200 Old Path Way out by Greenvale.”

“Right, then. You’ll need to come down to the station tomorrow to make an official statement and do a walkthrough of your home. We can also recommend a company that can replace your window.” With that, Officer Éadig turns and walks back towards the row of houses.

“Thank you,” Tauriel manages a small smile despite her shakiness.

“My cruiser is the last one,” Officer MacThelion offers. “You can wait there until we’ve finished up here.”

“Are you sure? I can stay if you need me.”

“Just need to finish taking some notes. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Officer MacThelion assures her with a gentle smile. “I’ll be okay,” he squeezes her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter changed dramatically. I reorganized my outline. This chapter was originally going to be more … mature … in nature. However after reading some stuff other authors wrote about the do and do nots of such scenes I moved such a scene further back. Here it accomplished nothing, where it now is it accomplishes quite a lot to be honest. If you ask how far back it got moved… ~8 chapters, give or take one or two for fluctuation in the outline. The story should be about half-over with the completion of this chapter.
> 
> Did you catch the bonus cameo appearances?


	21. Chapter 21

**24 Hour Coffee Shop**

Tauriel slowly woke up. Everything was soft and she had the vague sense that she had overslept. She stretches and wakes with a start when she almost falls off the edge of the bed. Her eyes fly open and she is greeted with the sight of her bedroom in Thranduil's house. It has not changed since she left for boot camp years before. The walls were covered with movie and band posters and there were a few Guard recruitment ones as well. Between the posters evidence of the dark green paint peeked through. It took her several moments to remember why she was here. Bright sunlight filters through the dark brown gauzy curtains.

Tauriel checks her phone for the time and any missed messages only to be met by a red, blinking battery symbol; reminding her that she does not have a charger. She half falls half stumbles out of the bed and makes her way down the hall. She tightens the drawstring on the pajamas that she had to steal from Legolas' room after she had learned that none of the things that she had left here fit anymore.

* * *

 

_Tauriel had told him that she was fine and that he could leave before she shut to the door of the police cruiser. Officer MacThelion had not listened; he had climbed out of the cruiser to stand by the hood of the car. Tauriel glanced back at him and fumbled around for her keys._

" _I know I still have a copy," she assures him as she flips through her keys._

" _It's fine. I just want to make sure that you get inside," the officer assures her._

_Tauriel is trying another key when the porchlight turns on and the door opens._

" _Tauriel. What are you doing here? It's after midnight." Thranduil is holding a red plaid robe shut over his pajamas, his pale hair is messily pulled back into a bun, and his reading glasses sit low on his nose. It is clear that he must have been lying in bed and doing some reading._

" _Hi, ada," Tauriel says quietly as a wave of exhaustion washes over her. "I need to stay here for the night and maybe the next few night as well."_

_Thranduil looks from Tauriel to Officer MacThelion who is still leaning against the black and white car. "Why? What's happened? Are you alright?" Thranduil asks with concern. His brow furrows and he tucks his glasses into the pocket of his robe._

" _Can I tell you in the morning? Right now I just really need some sleep."_

" _Of course," Thranduil wraps his arm around Tauriel's shoulders and leads her inside. Tauriel gives the officer a weak wave, which he returns. "Thank you, Officer." Thranduil says and gives his own wave before shutting the front door and locking it._

_Thranduil pulls her close with one arm. "Are you sure you're alright?" He peers at her._

_Tauriel nods. "I just need some sleep. I promise I'll tell you in the morning."_

_Thranduil nods, but the lines of worry and concern do not smooth away with Tauriel's assurances. "If you're sure…" he trails off and presses an affectionate kiss to her hair before releasing the one armed hug._

" _Goodnight, ada."_

_Thranduil watches her climb those stairs. For a moment, he feels as if he is watching a much younger Tauriel climb the stairs with a stuffed hippo bumping up the stairs behind her as she holds one arm. Then she is the woman again. There is no stuffed animal, but her footsteps are just as heavy and slow as they had been that night. He listens to the crunch of gravel as the police cruiser pulls away down the long driveway and to the creak of the floorboards as Tauriel walks down the upstairs hallway._

_He returned to his own bedroom and many hours later, after listening to Tauriel pace and dealing with his own inability to sleep and listen to Legolas drunkenly stumble up the stairs and start snoring shortly thereafter, Thranduil walks down the hall and looks in Tauriel's open door. The room is lit by moonlight. He had kept her room unchanged in case she wanted to come home for whatever reason. Several times, he had considered turning it into a guest room while keeping her personal style, but he always changed his mind. Seeing her safely tucked into her single bed beneath the brown plaid comforter gives him a modicum of comfort, he likes having the children safe under his roof. He leans against the doorjamb and watches her sleep until he finally heads back to his own bed to sleep._

* * *

 

Tauriel passes Legolas' room on her way to the back stairs that lead to the kitchen. She glances in to see him sprawled on top of his blankets and snoring. One of his shoes is just outside the door and he is still wearing the other shoe. Tauriel can detect a whiff of alcohol coming from his room. It is unlikely that he will wake up any time soon.

Tauriel makes her way into the kitchen. The clocks reveals that it is just past 9, she was expecting it to be far later. Thranduil, however, is already sitting at the table reading the morning paper. His blonde hair is even more disheveled than it had been the night before.

"There's coffee in the pot," he informs her, "and creamer in the fridge." Other than this information Thranduil waits until Tauriel has had a chance to make and mostly consume a slice of toast with grape jelly and a cup of coffee.

"Tauriel," Thranduil says quietly. "What happened?"

Tauriel quickly summarizes what happened after she found the broken window. Thranduil has nothing to say until she tells him that the police think that it was a Halloween prank.

Thranduil scowls, "Breaking into someone's house is not prank. It's a crime. Throwing toilet paper in people's trees or calling them to ask if their refrigerator is running are pranks. Breaking and entering is not."

"I know, ada," Tauriel says placating. "They said that they'd have some CSIs down to dust the door and window, and other "obvious" places for fingerprints. But they don't expect to find much. If it was a prank they might find the fingerprints, but it is unlikely that those prints will take them back to anybody."

"I'm sure they won't be trying very hard to solve this especially if nothing is missing and no one was hurt. I could call up…"

Tauriel cuts him off. "Don't."

Thranduil frowns. "What?"

"Please, don't," Tauriel repeats. I don't want you putting undue pressure on this. If the fingerprints go nowhere then they go nowhere. I don't need or want you sticking your nose in and causing problems for them."

Thranduil has the grace to look mildly chastised. "I just want to help. Someone broke into your home, Tauriel. What do you think would have happened if you had been home?"

"That it wouldn't have happened," Tauriel snaps.

Thranduil snaps back, "But what if it wasn't just a harmless prank!"

Tauriel prepares a retort, but thinks better of it. She sighs; it was this constant butting of heads that created the tension that partially led her to seek out a house of her own. "I'm sorry. I just…" she spreads her hands in her loss for words.

Thranduil reaches across the expanse of the dark mahogany table to squeeze her hand. "I know. But, in all honesty, I do think you should move back home."

"I can't," Tauriel replies.

"Why ever not? There's a car you can use for work and leisure, and I haven't touched your room."

Tauriel smiles a little. "I _had_ noticed the last part. I wouldn't have minded if you had put a bigger bed in there. A single is rather cramped after getting used to a much larger bed."

"I suppose I could do that," Thranduil concedes. "But only if you promise to spend more time around here and will use it occasionally. I'd also prefer it if you'd help re-do it."

"Ada, I'm horrible at decorating. You've seen that room, right? My house has a few posters slapped up on the walls and some table lamps. That's my idea of decorating."

"Yes, well, its more 'you' than a decorator I pay could do."

"Does that mean I get paid to do this?" Tauriel asks slyly. "I also like my house. I like sleeping there."

"No." Thranduil replies. He sighs, "Will you at least considered staying here for a few days until you get that window fixed? I'd also like it you got a bit of a security system."

Tauriel groans.

"Nothing fancy," Thranduil continues. "Just cameras for each door and a lock system that alerts you when its unlocked, if a door has been forced or a window has been broken, or if there is smoke from a fire."

"That sounds pretty fancy," Tauriel says skeptically.

"It's nothing compared with what I have here or at my office. Plus," Thranduil holds up a hand with a single finger raised, "It would make me worry less, which means I would nag you less."

"Why didn't you lead with that?" Tauriel laughs a little.

"I was hoping you would be more worried about your security than about my worrying, to be honest."

"I'll be fine," Tauriel assures him. "Now, you said I could use a car. I'll need one to go down to my local precinct to make an official statement, plus they wanted me to do a walkthrough of the house to see if I notice anything that has been disturbed."

"I think it might be better if I accompany you."

"No, that's alright," Tauriel says quickly.

An hour later, she finds herself sitting in the passenger's seat of Thranduil's silver sedan. The hood ornament – many tined antlers – glint irritatingly in the low autumn sunlight. Legolas had woken up and insisted on joining them as well. However, he is already half asleep in the back seat with his head resting against the window.

At the local precinct, Tauriel repeats what she told the officers the night before. The send an officer with them to do a walkthrough of the home.

"So, besides the couch nothing has been disturbed?" the new officer asks, he is younger than the two that showed up the night before, but his badge reads MacThelion as well.

"I'm not even sure about that," Tauriel corrects him. "I can't remember if the pillows were positioned like that or if they were even on the couch."

The officer nods. "That's it." He rummages in his pockets until he finds a business card. "This is a company that can replace the broken window. But, as it is the weekend they probably won't be able to get to it until Monday at the earliest."

Thranduil interrupts before Tauriel can say anything. "I've told her that she should get an alarm system. Don't you agree that that would be wise?"

"It would be," the officer concedes. "But I would actually suggest a dog over the alarm system or in conjunction with it. It doesn't really matter how large the dog is because it is usually the barking that scares away potential intruders."

"We should get you a dog as well," Thranduil addresses Tauriel.

"We're done with our investigation on site meaning that you are free to enter the building to retrieve any personal belongings that you may need until the window is fixed. An officer will contact you if we have any further questions and with any updates that we may have." Then the officer turns to leave.

"Do you need anything from inside?"

"Pajamas that fit would be a good start. And a few other things."

Tauriel quickly gathers some clothes, a few books, and the charger for her phone. Once they are driving back to Thranduil's house Tauriel sits and stares at her phone with the feeling that she has forgotten something.

As soon as they are back at Thranduil's home Tauriel retires to her bedroom, plugs her phone in, and waits for it to power on so she can check her messages. The phone buzzes when it powers on, but then it keeps buzzing as text messages and missed phone calls come in.

_/ I'm leaving now to come get you. See you soon! /_

_/ Tauriel? There's police tape on your door. Where are you? /_

_/ Can you call me when you get this? I'm getting worried. /_

There were also several missed calls and a voicemail to the same effect of the texts. She gets a sick feeling of guilt for missing Bard's messages and for forgetting about watching scary movies with Bard and his children.

_/ Sorry. My phone died. /_

_/ I can explain what happened over a call. It's a bit too complicated to explain through text. /_

Tauriel puts the phone onto the dresser – as far as the cord will reach – and starts pacing the room waiting for the telltale tone of a text message or phone call. Instrumental music drifts down the hallway from Legolas' room. Tauriel shuts her door in an attempt to preserve the quiet that she had grown used to living on her own. The dulcet tones of a guitar are still audible, but she can tune it out.

Tauriel does not even have time to establish a pacing path before her phone rings. She snatches it up and answers.

"I'm so sorry. My phone died…"

"It's fine, Tauriel," Bard interrupts. "I'm just worried about you. Are you okay?" The sounds of his footsteps as he paces can be heard over the line.

Tauriel summarizes the events of the previous evening after he dropped her off and of today. "My uncle is insisting on an alarm system and a dog," she concludes. She keeps attempting to pace only to be jerked up short by the charging cord.

"That's a good idea. Anything to keep you safe."

"I don't know what kind of dog I should get though." Tauriel rubs her forehead.

"I can probably help you find one if you would like."

"That would be fantastic. I've never had a dog so I wouldn't know what I would be looking for."

After that the conversation turns towards more mundane everyday things. Bard tells her how Sigrid attempted to make fried eggs that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're actually almost to the peak of the Bolg part of the storyline. I'm really excited! I've had this planned since I wrote the first chapter even though I wasn't sure how I was going to get there.


	22. **update**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **update**

Camp NANoWriMo is coming up soon and I thought I would try finishing up this story. I honestly keeping thinking about it, but I need a fire pit under me. The Camp's word count will do that. 

However, I was rereading to refamiliarize myself with details and what not and I cringed. I just might have to rewrite some stuff. Is there anything you would _hate_ to see changed? Let me know and I'll take those into consideration! [Not sure how much will change, but I need to rework pacing, dialogue, and maybe add chapters (of better pacing, more knowledge, etc.)] Same thing goes for anything you'd like to see gone (it might be something that I'm already thinking about and your comment could seal the deal).


End file.
